


Rough Drafts, Waters, and Winds

by JaybirdSpectacular



Series: FE3H Demi Fics [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anxiety, Beta Read, Changing Tenses, Demisexual!Bernadetta, Demisexuality, FE3H AceAro Week, Fade to Black, Falling In Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Multi, Polyamory, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Discovery, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29307948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaybirdSpectacular/pseuds/JaybirdSpectacular
Summary: Bernadetta has a book to draft, ink, and enchant, and she is stressed. It doesn’t help that her boyfriend, Ashe, is going back home (home being at the bottom of the ocean), and she is going to miss him. Horribly. Her partner, Yuri, has been acting stranger and stranger lately (not that he wasn't strange already). His secretive work makes her and Ashe both sick with worry.She loves them. She trusts them. And they can survive without paying constant attention to each other.(But if Yuri hadn’t rescued her, and Ashe hadn’t pushed them together, where would they be?)It’ll be fine, Bernie-bear. It’ll be fine.Just focus on the book.(It’s all she’s good for, anyway.)For FE3H AceAro Week Truth & Secrets | Modern AU
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: FE3H Demi Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154354
Comments: 15
Kudos: 16
Collections: FE3H - Ace/Aro Week





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Additional CW:  
> There are mentions of injections that never happen on screen.  
> Bernie struggles with feeling more attracted to one partner than the other.
> 
> Thank you, so, so, so much to my beloved beta reader who read this baby twice. TWICE. Kristin, I love you so much. Thank you.

Bernadetta is in her normal spot on their red couch, leaned over the coffee table in a way that she knows is going to give her back problems, but there are more important things to worry about. She has to finish the pencil draft of this chapter _now._

Then, after all of that writing, there’s the inking, which takes forever because she has to follow the lines precisely or everything will fall apart and be ruined, and wouldn’t that be just like her?

And _then_ she has to enchant it quickly before the lines dry. If she doesn’t place the spell in time, it won’t stick to the dried ink, and then there’s no going back. She’ll be left with a totally plain, non-magical book.

And beyond the drafting and enchantment side of things, the story itself leaves a lot to be desired. _A lot._ There’s no believable plot, the characters are drabber than even Bernie, and the conclusion? It needs to be rewritten, edited, rewritten again, then torn from the book and burned. Bernie shouldn’t have tried this. She was never meant to be a writer. How could she think such a silly thought? Bernie, a writer. Silly Bernie, stupid Bernie!

This novel. Is not. Going well. Ashe has read the notes, the outline, the scribble drafts in her dollar store notebook and has said:

_“It’s great, Bernie!”_

Damn him. It’s not great. Yuri has watched her sketch the pictures she’ll add on, has traced his finger over the lines with a smile and has said:

_“You’ve worked so hard, love.”_

Damn him, too! She hasn’t worked hard enough. She’s faking it, and they don’t know it. Are they placating her? Why are they being so nice?

It’s because she’s fooled them, and she’s fooled her editor, Sylvain, and she’s fooled her publishers, and she’s fooled her audience and the world into making her first two novels popular and well-sold.

She’s been _seen._ And she has fooled them all.

She sits back with a groan and shakes her head, pulling her purple hair back into a ponytail out of nervous habit. No, not this again. Damn _her,_ now, she is a twenty-four-year-old woman, she knows she deserves this, she knows she does, she works hard, it’s not her fault that it took her so long to get well again—

“Where is Ashe?” Yuri’s voice cuts through her panic as he walks through their kitchen into their living room, his soft fuzzy socks muffling the sound. She hadn’t heard him come into the apartment, but she figures she has been spiraling too much. She hopes she didn’t ignore him. She probably did.

He’s apparently been home long enough to come in, walk past her through their living room to the hall, head into their bedroom, and change into a comfortable set of clothes, lounge pants and a hoodie that may be his, or hers, or Ashe’s. They stopped caring after a certain point. They only buy one size now; one that’s big enough to fit Ashe comfortably and be just shy of oversized on Bernie.

Yuri hasn’t removed his makeup—he never does until he has to sleep— and despite the sharp eyeliner, the pink shadow he’s chosen today softens him, warms his lavender eyes. Yuri just looks so cozy, and like a sunflower to the light, or a mosquito to a Venus flytrap, she longs to lean into him—

No. No distractions, no matter how adorably comfy and inviting her lavender-haired partner looks, she has to focus—

“Bern?” Yuri asks again. She pauses in her thoughts and enchantments, having long mastered the ability to do both at the same time. The page flickers faintly, glowing with the gold lines of her magic. Waiting impatiently for her to imprint the image she wants.

She looks at the clock and realizes that nearly three hours have passed since she last saw their boyfriend. “Oh, he said he was going to read in the bathtub for a while. I guess it’s been a while…” she says as she bites her lip, “Was I supposed to get him? I hope he’s not mad…” She glances down the hall, but there’s no indication of Ashe. She can’t see the door from her position, but it’s probably closed, anyway.

She doesn’t even have to see Yuri to know he’s rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure Ashe is furious. Typical of him. Honestly, Bernie-bear, he’s probably fallen asleep and drowned. I’ll have to resuscitate him.”

Bernie narrows her eyes. “That wasn’t funny the first time, and it sure isn’t the tenth.”

“I think it’s pretty funny,” he says, waving a hand as he heads down the hall, opposite to the bedroom, and out of sight. The door opens with a click, and Bernie quickly waves a hand of sparkling magic over her page, saving it from her inattention. With a sigh, she leans back, and waits.

It starts soft, as always. She can hear Yuri’s murmuring, soft, sweet nothings. She can only imagine Ashe blinking his mint eyes sleepily as he smiles his goofy smile. He’s so in love and happy to see Yuri, brain fogged over with sleep, that he can’t connect what will happen next.

Until it does. The sound of rushing water, falling back into the bathtub and to the floor, soaking their rug, is so loud, like their own personal waterfall (and their downstairs neighbor’s, too, if it drips through like it has before. She’ll bake cookies as an apology to Dedue later.)

Ashe yells. Yuri laughs.

(Bernie twiddles her fingers, wondering if she should make ginger cookies for Dedue, and make something spicy for Felix and Sylvain just above them, who also have to listen to this racket far too often.)

And now Yuri must have thrown Ashe over his back, because here come the heavy footsteps and the bangs against the wall and floor from Ashe’s heavy, bulky tail.

 _(“It’s all muscle so that I can swim through the ocean currents!”_ he had said proudly in one of their early meetings.)

(Well, now it just causes damage to their walls. No return deposit, she guesses.)

Finally, after what took far too long for how small their apartment actually is, come her partner and boyfriend, into the living room, both soaking wet, but not as soaked as Ashe’s paperback, now soggy in Yuri’s hand after being rescued from the watery depths. Yuri dumps Ashe unceremoniously onto the floor, where Ashe props himself up on his silver-scaled arms, his green-silver tail swishing back and forth. He always looks like an angry cat when he’s like this. His sharp pupils, razor teeth, and piercing claws don’t help his case, either.

(Yuri once bought a costume set of cat-ears, placed them on Ashe, called him ‘ _their little catfish’_. Ashe sulked for a week.)

Bernie gets up and settles on the ground beside Ashe, smooths his silver hair behind his ear, pointed and lined with more silver-green scales, and kisses his forehead.

“Sorry, was I supposed to get you?” she asked. “Really, I should’ve—”

Ashe smiles at her and she watches as the teeth change, go from sharp to human in a blink. “No, it was a good nap.”

Despite the two years they have been together, Bernie always jolts a little when Ashe changes from his mer-body to the human one so quickly. She hates when Ashe catches her shock, as he does now, and he gets that gleam of hurt in his eyes. It’s surprising! She can’t help it. But she should get better about it.

“Bern, if you don’t want to get soaked, I suggest you move back,” Yuri says, the magic spinning around his hands. The moment between her and Ashe passes, and Bernie moves away, towards their room. Ashe glares at Yuri.

“Let me change back, and then I can just use a towel like a norma—” is all he manages to say before Yuri’s wind magic hits him, sending water flying off Ashe, but all over the room.

(She swears to Sothis if he ruins her book, she’ll ruin him.)

It’ll be fine, it’ll dry, Bernie tells herself as she heads back to their room to get Ashe a change of clothes. A navy-blue hoodie, some jeans? Or maybe sweats would be better? She takes both just in case, and some of his boxers. Or maybe Yuri’s? She doesn’t know.

She grabs Ashe’s favorite towel, a fully, plush purple one with an embroidered cat, given to him as a silly present half a year ago, just before Yuri moved in with them. 

When she goes back out, Ashe’s legs have returned and the scales are gone, rendering him totally human. Without the scales, his freckles stand out far clearer. Yuri is blow drying his hair with much more care than the initial blast, though Ashe shivers, still on the floor. The apartment is kept warm, but Yuri’s wind magic has a touch of frost to it that is shockingly chilly even on warm days. Strange, considering how warm Yuri himself is.

She passes Ashe the towel, blushing as she does— she has seen him naked, there is nothing wrong with it, why is she like this— and she places the pile of clothes on the ground next to him.

“Thanks,” he says as he takes the boxers and sweats, and stands to get dressed, swatting away Yuri. His hair is mostly dried anyway, fluffed, and curling around his face as it does naturally. It’s so, so tempting to reach out and tousle it, mess it up again after it had been so carefully combed down.

Yuri moves on to trying to save Ashe’s poor, waterlogged paperback, but the pages are twisted and torn, and the ink has faded. No amount of wind magic can help this poor thing. Still, Yuri tries, knowing Ashe hasn’t finished it but will say buying another copy is just a waste of money. This is why they only buy secondhand paperbacks for him now, and why his hands will never be allowed to even touch an e-reader.

_(“You can get water-proof cases for them now!”)_

_(“That’s not going to help when it sits at the bottom of the bathtub for ten hours!”)_

Bernadetta cannot stop herself any longer. She runs her fingers through Ashe’s soft locks, messing it up and definitely tangling it from where Yuri had probably combed it out already. It feels so nice freshly washed, and it smells fresh, washed with Yuri’s flowery shampoo.

Ashe leans into her touch, then wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. She had forgotten he wasn’t fully dressed, so focused on his hair. His skin is warm enough for her to feel the heat through her shirt. She feels warm, too warm, and moves back away from him with a nervous giggle. Sometimes, it’s okay, sometimes it’s not, and today is a not.

“Sorry!” she squeaks.

He shakes his head, “No sorrys needed, Bernie. It’s okay.” His smile is so genuine, and it’s Ashe. Ashe doesn’t lie, and besides, she knows it’s fine, really. If there’s one thing she is sure and confident about, it is that her partners accept and love her for who she is.

He moves to put on his hoodie, (and maybe this one actually _is_ his,) but Yuri stops him, hand on wrist, fingers gripping, tightening, and Ashe gasps softly.

The shift between them is so instant and elastic that Bernie has whiplash from the snap. Yuri’s eyes rove over Ashe, and Bernie can see the hunger, the ravenous desire in his eyes that drink in Ashe’s bare torso like it’s the only glass of water in a desert. The first few times this happened, near the beginning of their relationship, Ashe would flush, his whole body red, find himself unable to tear wide, unblinking eyes from their partner. Ashe was such a flustered mess when he first met Yuri. 

Now, though, he matches Yuri’s gaze, fire against fire, heat spilling from his eyes. Desire matching desire in an even-footed gait. A taunt line, so strong it’s nearly visible, is pulled between them, drawing them into each other’s orbit. A silent question asked and answered between them, an unfamiliar-familiar language that Bernie isn’t fluent in like they are.

Yuri flicks those starving eyes to Bernie, throwing her the line, asking if she wants to be pulled in, and she does consider it, twists the idea between her fingers. But she drops it, lets it fall slack between the three of them, shakes her head. She’s not feeling it today.

“Have fun. I’m going to keep working.” She waggles her fingers at them for a goodbye, and the line is gone from her, drawn only now between Ashe and Yuri. Yuri’s brow bows, dipping into a slight frown before it’s wiped clean, his normal, salacious smirk repainted in a single smooth stroke.

“Well, you know where to find us if you find yourself wanting,” Yuri tells her as he pulls Ashe silently along behind him by the hand. Ashe casts her a worried glance.

“I’ll start dinner soon,” she answers, circling around back to the couch and setting herself back with an oomph. She hears the door close just as she slips on her oversized, noise-cancelling headphones. “I’ll start as soon as I finish this page,” she whispers to herself.

They have a pretty good balance in their relationship, she thinks. They each hold each other up, hold each other close, support each other. Bernadetta and Ashe have been good for each other from the start, complete and in perfect tune with each other. Yuri, when he came back into her life and Ashe’s for the first time, slotted in so naturally, so perfectly, like he had been with them all along. Not a missing piece, per say, more like the three adjusted to accommodate, to have each other in their shared life and space because they love each other, truly, dearly.

And, Ashe and Yuri had both not only been receptive, but supportive of her when she told them each of her demisexuality at the beginning of their relationships. When she met Ashe for the first time, she had only recently discovered the term, had only just begun to explore its relationship to her. Finding information about it had been an intense experience, like she was reading a story about herself. She worries sometimes that they don’t understand, not really. Still, they operate smoothly. _Don’t worry, Bernie,_ she tells herself.

Of course, sometimes, she wants, really, really wants them. On other days, she would have said yes in a heartbeat, given herself up to them and taken just as much in return. She _is_ attracted to them both, it’s undeniable at this point.

(Equally? Yes, she tells herself. Of course.)

But she rarely is the initiator. She loves them, loves them so much it hurts, but sex just wasn’t a key factor of that. Still, the intimacy could be addicting, inspiring, explosive. She has never not enjoyed herself when she sleeps with them, or even when they just mess around a bit. She thinks that her complete comfort with them, and therefore her occasional desire for them, is because of how little they pushed, how little they asked of her, letting her come to them whenever she wanted.

She can ignore them, leave them to roll around in the sheets all they wanted while she is productive and gets things done.

 _They’re getting things done, too,_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Yuri whispers in her ear. She waves it off, annoyed as if Yuri himself had been the one to say it. Though, it has been a while since she joined them…

Not today. Not feeling it. She really needs to get at least this page finished, anyway. Sylvain has been subtly, in that Sylvain way of his, clamoring for at least a finished chapter for so long, he might actually, _finally_ blow a fuse if she takes any longer. Sylvain is kind and patient and has never once been annoyed with her, but if anyone could push him to anger, it’s Bernie. Probably.

She raises a hand to her mouth to chew on her nails for a moment before slapping herself gently on the cheek.

Focus, Bernie!

She looks to the page again, reading it over carefully, choosing the words to enchant, the pictures to assign to them.

Her magic is connected to her writing: she can enchant any words she writes to show a mental image of the scene. She can also weakly invoke feelings, making the reader cycle through grief, joy, rage, at her whim. Senses fall into her domain as well, the taste of a shortcake, the smell of gardenias.

The biggest challenge is to decide how sparingly to use it. Books aren’t movies, and they aren’t real life. She tends to shy away from showing characters in detail, hinting, but allowing the readers to fill in the blanks with their imaginations. Alternatively, the enchantments give readers an immersive experience that’s hard to replicate with any other medium, something unique and within their own heads.

Of course, she’s not the only such writer in the world. But she has begun to make a small name for herself. Nothing big— no movie deals or anything! Not that she thinks her stuff would translate well to film… but she does have two fairly popular novels published. She should be proud of herself, for coming as far as she had after she left home. She had felt, at the time, that the damage on her writing ability would be irreparable. But look at Bernie now! She’s not failing!

(Yet.)

She casts her eyes to the hallway. If she were to stand and peek around the corner, she would be met with the closed door to her bedroom, where her loves and inspirations were probably still tangled up in each other.

Good, she has plenty of time to work, then.

She leans over her work again, and focuses on the flow of the words, the feel of the pencil in her hand, lets the soft music in her headphones keep her on task and oblivious to the world.

As she is nearing the end of the second chapter, purple hair falls in front of her eyes, a kiss planted on her head.

She screeches and jolts, bumping her head against Yuri’s chin.

“Yuri! I’m so sorry!” she exclaims as she moves around the couch to his side.

“No, sorry, I know better than to touch you when you’re so focused,” he says as she runs her fingers along his jawline, checking for injury. “I’m fine, you didn’t get me that bad.”

She drops her hand from his jaw, steps away, and takes his hand and squeezes it. He raises his other arm, a breath away from reaching for her, but something glints across his expression, something unsure, and he drops it, settling with a sigh.

What was that about?

Before she can question it, the expression is gone. “So, what’s for dinner?” he asks, teeth glinting in his stupid, smug smile. She groans.

“I’m so sorry— I got totally focused and forgot—”

“I got it!” comes Ashe’s voice from the kitchen, raising itself over the sounds of drawers opening and closing, the clinking of silverware, a slam of a pot or pan. She can already smell the garlic and onions sizzling— when had he started cooking?

Yuri drags Bernie by the hand to the kitchen where they find Ashe already at the counter, leaned over a cutting board and a variety of vegetables. He’s put on his thick-framed glasses, which he by no means needs, but claims it helps him make more precise cuts.

_(“And it’s so human!”)_

Yuri lets go of Bernie to move behind Ashe, pressing close and wrapping his arms around Ashe’s waist. He kisses the blossoming bruises on Ashe’s neck that his shirt doesn’t cover. Yuri looks to Bernie, calling her over with a gesture of his head.

They look so cozy, she can’t say no. She slides under and between Ashe’s arms, inserting herself between him and the counter. She reaches to grab on to the sides of Yuri’s sweater, and Yuri pulls her closer in turn, flush against Ashe between them. She tucks her head under Ashe’s chin, trying to stay out of his way even while she invades his space. Cuddles are always welcome and very, very necessary. Ashe tilts his chin just enough to lightly kiss her head but continues to otherwise chop in silence. It’s cozy. It’s home.

They are a strange trio: a story enchanter, a wind mage, and a merman, but it makes sense to her, it makes sense to them.

Does anything else matter?

(The book that she’s not working on now.)

( _You don’t have time for this, Bernie!_ She tells herself.)

She shivers, and Yuri grips her tighter.

\---

She’s happier. Happier than she’s ever been. Her life is going well. She and Ashe found each other, and Yuri came back into her life after such a long absence. She’s semi-successful, somehow. She shouldn’t be, not at all. Not her.

 _Just remember, Bernie,_ she tells herself that night as she’s wrapped in between the two of them. They’re fast asleep, Ashe to her right, on his side, cuddled close to her, Yuri to her left, on his back, gripping her hand.

_(Something could always go wrong.)_

She whimpers under the weight of the words.

“You awake, Bernie?” Yuri asks in a quiet whisper. Even with the softness, she startles a bit, not realizing he was awake. “Can’t sleep?”

“No, you?”

“Nope. Bad dreams.”

Bernie smiles in the dark. “Want me to fix that?”

Yuri’s reply seeps with relief. “Yes, please.”

While Bernie tries to adjust herself in Ashe’s arms without waking him, Yuri reaches across the bed, trying to quietly rummage through the mess on their nightstand before finally procuring the marker, pink and peach-scented, uncapping it, and handing it to Bernie. Ashe shifts in his sleep, pulling himself closer to her, but doesn’t wake. He doesn’t ever need this, not really. He sleeps deeply and soundly, his traumas, fears, and memories staying out of his dreams, unlike Bernadetta and Yuri’s. He never has to ask.

Yuri, on the other hand, asks her to enchant his thoughts on a near weekly basis. 

It still amazes her that he trusts her with this after what she did to him all those years ago.

“What do you want to see?”

“Hmm… something colorful?”

“Got it,” she says, drawing a cute little heart on his hand before passing him back the marker. Her fingers tips glow with magic as she lays the enchantment, thinking of a flowery field laden with pink cosmos, sweet cherry blossoms, bright red and yellow tulips, and huge orange daffodils that they had visited together last spring. It had been a pleasant day, the sun bright and soaking into their skin, the spring air fresh and full of flowers. It had been nice to be outside with the two of them, taking away her stress from drafting and outlining. She remembers Ashe’s overjoyed smile, Yuri’s relaxed shoulders, none of them carrying any burdens for that one afternoon.

The memory helps her wind down, too, and by the time the enchantment is done, Yuri is already fast asleep, and she is quick to follow.

(Still, the voice follows her down into the darkness.)

_(Wrong, wrong, wrong.)_

__\---

In five weeks, Ashe will be going home, deep, deep within the sea, to visit his family. In five weeks, she and Yuri will be alone for the first time in four and a half years. In five weeks, she will understand why she felt like something was so terribly, terribly wrong.

________________________

It was two years ago that she first met Ashe. After their awkward first meeting, it was a miracle that he even wanted to see her again. It was a miracle that they did see each other again.

(She had no idea what he saw in her that first time.)

(She was so glad he saw it, though.)

Bernadetta was stuck in her writing. Again. No matter how she twisted and turned the plot or flipped the characters inside out and back again, nothing seemed to work. And so, it piled up— stress on stress on stress, weighing her down, pushing her pencil to the floor and her heart to her stomach. And not to mention how her eraser and back space key had found themselves in her dreams, possibly in a romantic relationship together. She was happy for them, really.

Sylvain had read her first few edits, and _sighed_. He didn’t say, “ _This is awful, terrible Bernie, almost as terrible as you.”_ No, just a _sigh_.

A _sigh._

She was really the worst, wasn’t she, to make happy-go-lucky Sylvain Jose Gautier _sigh_.

He had suggested she take a break for a while (probably so that he didn’t have to deal with her anymore) and leave her room. Go see the sights. Enjoy the outdoors. _Leave her room._

That was how she found herself seated on the dark sand of the beach, the smell of the ocean all around her, water and sand made muddier by the snow falling far too lazily to be sticking to the ground, yet here it was, sticking in some places, solidifying to icy patches in others. She shivered non-stop in the past few weeks since the temperature had dropped several degrees, and she had to dig out her thick, navy blue, woolen winter coat from the depths of her closet.

Despite the warmth of the coat, the cold still found its way in, sinking into her bones and chilling her thoroughly from the inside out. She wasn’t built for this, and regardless of the few years she had spent in Fhirdiad, she didn’t think she ever would be built for it. Back home—

She shook her head, sending a flurry of snow flying to the ground that had built up on her hat. _Don’t think about that_ , she told herself.

She stood, dusting snow off her grey skirt and her coat. What had she been thinking, wearing a skirt in the middle of a Fhirdiad winter—

A splash caught her attention, drawing her eyes to the sea. A fish? She scuttled to the shoreline to look.

It was _not_ a fish that she saw. Instead, she was met with a glowing pair of sea-green eyes, peeking out from the water under dark grey curls.

Merperson?

She screamed, back-peddling away. Merpeople were incredibly uncommon to see, as they tended to keep to themselves under the ocean waves.

Except for the stories, of course. Taking humans away, dragging them to the bottom of the sea, eating them for dinner. Those were the kinds of stories her father shared after he had found (and subsequently destroyed) the book she was reading about merpeople. The image of this person grabbing her by the ankles, dragging her under, was bright and clear in her mind. Oh, she could taste the disgusting seawater now.

(Honestly, it would probably be fair retribution from the universe, considering those few years in her childhood, she thought. It hadn’t been her fault, she reminded herself. Still, it had happened, she reasoned.)

Her father’s voice rang loud and clear. She was going to get killed, here and now, on this stupid beach in the middle of Fhirdiad winter, her book left unfinished. When they cleaned out her apartment, they would find it, and flip through it, and laugh at how terrible it was.

Sylvain would _sigh_ again.

Not today. She had to fix this terrible plot before she dies. She wouldn’t be Berna-dead-ta until this novel is published!

“I am not dinner!” Bernie yelled at the merperson, suddenly finding herself frozen with fear at the thought. She couldn’t move back anymore, her limbs immobile, and oh, if she knew herself, and she did, that meant that she was going to pass out. The nausea hit her at the same time as the ringing in her ears began.

Eyes widened, the merman shot his head out of the water, “Wait—” he shouted as he started to move towards her. She couldn’t run, she was trapped.

Anything else he said didn’t matter. She couldn’t hear any longer. Bernie felt the darkness creeping in before she saw it dancing on the edges of her vision.

She fainted, landing on the soft, cold sand.

When she awoke again, she couldn’t remember where she was, or what had happened. All she felt was her head on a hard pillow, no blanket, but her back was against something warm, so she wasn’t all that chilly.

Hey eyes blinked blankly into the sky. It had at least stopped snowing, and most of the clouds had cleared, opening like curtains for the beautiful sunset. How long had she been asleep?

Why had she been asleep outside?

“Oh, you’re awake! I was worried!” said a voice from above her. She tilted her head back slightly, and her vision shifted from pink sky to mint eyes, silver hair, glittering, fish like scales arranged around a sharp, young face dotted with freckles.

She screeched and jolted to move away, but her position of laying along the merperson’s body (her head had been on his tail!) was awkward, and she couldn’t find her balance to get up. His hands landed gently on her shoulder without force but stilled her, the fear icing over her veins again.

“Wait, wait, please calm down!” he said, “Please don’t faint again, I’m not going to hurt you.”

She tore herself away and tried to stand, but her legs, having been still for so long, were numb and weak, and she ended up stumbling into the sand once again. His eyes were on her, brow furrowed, watching her like a predator would a poor, defenseless rabbit. And she was definitely a rabbit.

(He had been concerned for her, he would say later.)

(Well, so was I, she would say back.)

“Merpeople eat humans, don’t they?” she accused.

“I mean, sometimes, they used to, but nowadays—”

“You’re going to eat me!” she screamed, trying to pull herself away, put more distance between them, but she was freezing up again. If she ever needed to fight, she would be in trouble.

He blinked, and the confusion on his face, his cocked head, suddenly made him seem so much less intimidating. A trap, most likely. “Umm, no, I’m not.” He looked her up and down, meeting her eyes again with a small grin that almost was friendly, if it hadn’t been a trick. “Besides, you’re way too skinny. I doubt you’d taste good.”

She blanched and scrambled backwards as much as she could. “You’re a fiend!” She wondered how she could fight him off because if she was going to die, she was going down swinging.

“No, oh Goddess, I’m sorry, that was a joke, a terrible, terrible joke. Just, look around you!” he said, gesturing widely, “I’m not in the best position to fight, or eat you, or whatever you’re thinking of!” He thumps his tail in the sand for emphasis.

She did look, and they were higher up on the beach, away from the shore, near the dunes where flecks of grass spring up in small patches. They were hidden, just barely, within the dunes. He would have had to drag her here. But— “Why did you bring me here? Couldn’t you have dragged me into the ocean, made me a drowned Bernie?”

“I suppose I could’ve,” he paused to let her whimper again, “but I didn’t. Want to know why?”

“Why?”

He leaned in conspiratorially, speaking in a sharp whisper. “Because I don’t. Want. To hurt. You,” he replied, thumping his tail in time with each emphasized word.

Bernie thought about it for a moment. She did suppose it made sense, as much as she still was hesitant to believe it. He had brought her away from the shore, hadn’t hurt her. Maybe he was just curious about her? Or maybe he wanted to tease her before he ate her? Did fear add flavor? She hadn’t gotten too far in that book, but _it_ had never mentioned merpeople eating humans.

Or maybe, she thought, he was just a nice person who wanted to help her. She had been meeting a few of those the past couple of years. It didn’t always, always have to be like before, with her father, someone who had only wanted to use her for his own personal gain.

(Though, the person who had helped her escape her home back then also ended up abandoning her.)

(Maybe, she thought, this merman wasn’t like that.)

(And, having a merman friend would be pretty cool.)

“Oh,” she said as she crossed her legs to make herself more comfortable. “Okay.”

“Okay? Really?” he said, sharp pupils fixated on her in narrowed eyes. Sharp, but not unkind. If anything, they reminded her of a curious cat.

“Really. Sorry, you must hate me. Am I the first human you’ve talked to? I swear, everyone on the planet is better than ol’ Bernie. Seriously, I’m the worst.”

His expression was blank, the corners of his lips twitching like they couldn’t decide how to react. “Oh, um, actually, you are the first, and I don’t hate you— I don’t even know you!” He lifted his hand, staring at it like it was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out before thrusting it at Bernie. “I’m Ashe. Am I doing this right?”

She took a beat to stare at the long, sharp claws, the webbed fingers before taking his hand in a shake. “Bernadetta.” He was surprisingly warm, which made her think— “Were you cuddling with me?”

His entire face and neck flushed red with blotchy patches forming on his chest. He dropped his hand, bringing it in a fist to his chest. “N-no. I was keeping you warm, it’s freezing out, and I couldn’t really take you anywhere or get help.”

She giggled nervously, “Thank you. You probably saved my life, even though it is your fault I fainted in the first place.” She stood, finally able to feel her legs again, and brushed off her skirt. She looked him over, from his scale tipped ears to his tail glittering in the sunlight. “Wow, you really are a merperson,” she said.

“Merman. And you’re really a human!” he replied, “I didn’t think I would actually get to talk with you when I saw you here!”

She blushed, “How long were you watching?”

He didn’t answer, averting his eyes to the sand, curling his fingers in it. The flush from earlier hadn’t yet settled, but it didn’t matter; he would have probably blushed anew.

“Ashe, that’s creepy,” she said as she dropped to a crouch. “Are all merpeople so creepy?” She had meant to tease him, but his expression dropped into a sad smile.

“No, I think I’m the only creepy one who’s interested in surface life. In my home, at least,” he answered, “Though my adoptive father is supportive, and my younger siblings are curious.”

“Oh? Why? Are you interested, I mean.”

This brought a smile back to his face. “My older brother used to come to the surface a lot! And he’d come home and tell us all the stories. My younger siblings liked them enough, but I took them to heart, it all sounded so exciting! I wanted to see it for myself. I want to be like he was.” The smile faltered once again.

Bernie didn’t miss the past tense, didn’t miss the whiplash of his emotions. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and now, that sad smile became something just shy of bitter.

“He just didn’t come home one day. The leader of our village had warned us all about the surface, that we are taken and killed up here. Something about our blood, or maybe our scales? I don’t know.”

Bernie shivered with memory, with the mention of the mer-blood. The memory of what her magic used to be.

(She wondered if she were somehow connected.)

Not now, she told herself, that was far in the past.

Focus, Bernie. Ashe was still talking.

“Christophe didn’t care, and well. Now he’s just a warning—” Ashe cut himself off suddenly. “I’m sorry, we literally just met and I’m dumping all of this on you. That’s enough of that.”

Bernie took the cue to change the subject. “So, you can come on land?”

“Oh, well, it’s kind of secret. Our disguises are usually pretty foolproof.”

“How do you hide the tail?” Unless— “Do merpeople swim through the sewers?”

“The what? No, we can transform, you know, legs and all, with practice.”

“What.”

“What?”

“That’s so cool!” she exclaimed, “Can you show me?” It might be something she could use in this stupid draft!

Oh, drat. His face fell again before he plastered a fake looking smile over it. “Christophe was teaching me. I haven’t really practiced lately. And it’s even more frowned upon now than it was before. I’m not outright forbidden, my father still supports me, but I don’t want to cause trouble.”

That resonated with Bernie as she thought back to her own father.

She thought back to his magic training, back when she was being taught a different kind of magic.

She shook her head, patting her cheek to get rid of those memories. Bad Bernie, no good Bernie, we’re moving on from that.

“I mean…what if you keep practicing, and come talk to me?”

He hummed, crossing his arms, “Why can’t we just keep talking like this?”

“Because…Because…from now on, I’m going to stand farther and farther from the shore! And eventually I’m going to stand so far back that you’ll have to walk to me!”

Ashe watched her with eyes growing wider and wider until the sun broke through and his smile flashed brilliantly. “Okay, but what if I just shout across the beach?”

“Then I will faint, Ashe, and you’ll have to keep me warm again,” she said, poking at the scales on his cheek with each word. “You’re…really not going to eat me though, right? Like you’re not even tempted?”

He grabbed her hand where she was tracing the scales, gripping it tightly, making her squeak. “One, I will always keep you warm when you faint,” he said, the redness dusting his cheeks again, “Two, no, I’m not going to eat you.”

A moment passed.

“Three?”

“Three, I’m not tempted—” he said in a low voice, cutting his eyes. She wrenched her hand from his again. “No, Bernie, I’m joking again I swear!”

Bernie shot upright, began striding away. “Nope, don’t believe you.” She said, spinning with a mischievous grin. “I’ll see you in…three days? Also, I’m going to start back farther away now. Just in case you’re not joking. Bye for now!”

She turned, not waiting for him to answer, but she thought she could feel his eyes on her.

Whatever that meant.

\---

This was how their meetings began, stretching out over the course of a few moons. Every three days shifted to every two, slowly becoming every day. She found her writing came more easily with the set break every day, and Ashe was slowly becoming a kind of…inspiration. Seeing him filled her with a gentle warmth. She looked forward to leaving her room just to see him.

He was dedicated, that was for sure—it only took four meetings before he was able to change to legs, at least for a short while.

(And after the first time, and Bernie embarrassing herself, she learned to bring him clothes. She stocked up at the thrift store, bringing him something new almost each day. He was slowly becoming a doll to dress up and she loved it, even if she wouldn’t admit it, and somehow, even though he had never left this beach, pieces of him, his life, were amassing in Bernie’s apartment.)

(It felt good to see his things there.)

And, true to her word, she moved back slowly, little by little each day as he clumsily learned to balance on legs. She did take pity on him when he eventually stumbled and fell to the sand, going out to meet him so they could exchange stories, anecdotes. Her writing eventually came up.

“And it was the swordsman all along?” he asked as she told him her latest story.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! You know, you’re good for bouncing ideas. Do you read a lot?”

“Oh, no. In fact, I can’t read at all. I grew up on being told stories. I love hearing yours.”

Bernie sputtered for a moment as she hid her face. “No, you don’t. They’re terrible. Besides, you don’t even get the whole experience like this… I could bring one for you!”

“I can’t read,” he repeated, “But, if you could teach me…”

From there, their meetings became classes. Ashe was incredible, Bernie thought, soaking it up like a sponge. A sea sponge.

With every letter he learned, every combination of sounds, every word he recognized in written form was followed by another step taken forward on the beach as they moved farther away from the shore in the slowest game of chase Bernie had ever played in her life.

(Not that she ever had friends to play with when she was younger.)

And every step forward was a step deeper into her heart, where, as they came to know each other more, Ashe dove deeper and deeper, entrenching himself in the coves.

Oh, Bernie. Bernie, Bernie, Bernie.

She had gotten a crush on a merman.

Bernie had _really_ done it now. She wasn’t sure if she _could_ feel like she had before, the last time she had feelings for someone.

But these feelings felt too good to pass up and ignore.

She cradled them close to her and decided.

\---

The winter moons slowly faded into the spring, dancing through it on flower petals as the weather heated up on its upward slope the summer. The smell of sun and warmth and returning life twisted in the air.

Bernie gulped as she waited, seated on a rock so far away from the shore sand had become soft, green grass. It was growing warm enough for her to start wearing dresses again, today’s being grey plaid with tan sandals. She thought it looked good with her grey eyes. She smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt out of nerves. She hoped her make-up hadn’t run.

Ashe appeared from the water and completed the easiest change he had made yet. He looked around, trying to find Bernie as he dressed. She was right – the lavender collared shirt and forest green cardigan really suited him. She was beginning to pride herself on how handsome she could make Ashe look, though he did that plenty on his own.

When he spotted her, his sunbeam smile was so bright she could see it from where she waited. After the moons of practice, it became near effortless for him to walk up the beach, almost to her—

“Stop!” she yelled as he toed the line between sand and soft grass, Ashe froze, the easy joy sliding off his face. “I need to say something before you come any closer.” So that when he hated it, and hated her in turn, it wouldn’t hurt as much when he turned to leave. She wouldn’t feel the loss of his warmth so suddenly if he was already a distance away from her.

“O-okay?”

She breathed in, let it out. The tension in her shoulders didn’t abate, and her heart was pounding hard enough that it might have left her chest. With every beat, her head spun, and she was having trouble focusing.

Get it out, Bernie.

“You’re really not as scary as I thought you were at first.”

Ashe’s eyes widened as he took a tentative step forward, only leaning his full weight on it when Bernie didn’t reprimand him. She was powerless, it seemed, to be away from him, and he seemed to be equally drawn to her, his eyes laser focused on her. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

She twisted her fingers into her shirt. “It’s okay. You don’t anymore. In fact, I look forward to seeing you.”

Another step. “Yeah? Me, too. Nothing is better than when I can come and see and talk with you.”

She swallowed the urge to stop him when he took another step. It’s Ashe, it’s only Ashe, and the closer he got to her, the better.

She stood so that she could meet him equally, looking him down, trying to wipe the fear off her face so that he didn’t misinterpret it. “At some point, my fear became friendship, and that friendship became trust. I really trust you, Ashe.” She finally wavered, cutting her eyes to the ground, afraid of what she might have seen.

His voice was nearly to her now. “I’m glad, Bernie. I trust you, too.” Something she was happy to hear, after the stories Ashe had told her of his village and their distrust of surface life. She hadn’t earned it. She wouldn’t ever betray it.

“I’ve been thinking about something, if you think you could stand it.” She smiled to the ground. “Pun intended.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she could imagine the roll of his eyes. “I’ve been thinking that it would be nice to show you more of the surface. Like the city, and parks, and forests, and… my apartment. My room. You could see my books and where I live and… I don’t know. Experience human life. With me. _With_ me.” She was breathless by the time she finished, her nerves prickling at her skin. Her head was roaring, she had made a mistake, hadn’t she? This was a terrible idea, what was she thinking, he would never care for her in the same way.

His bare feet came into her vision, and she looked up slowly, inch by inch, her vision dragging through the mud as she reluctantly brought her head up to meet his disappointed, pitying stare.

How wrong she was.

If she thought his smile was radiant before, then the one he showed now must have been all the stars in the galaxy pressed together in one luminous glow, blinding and beautiful. She almost wished she had a journal so she could write down the words for it, a camera so she could remember it for her enchantments.

Or, maybe it was better this way, so that this smile would be for her and her alone.

“I’d like that. I’d like to go with you to all those places. I’d like to see what you see every day, I’d like to read the books you’ve made, see where you work your magic.” He paused. “I’d like to… I want to _be_ with you, if that’s okay.”

Bernadetta couldn’t stop the huff that escaped her lips. “I’m the one asking you that!” she exclaims. “Or…was I not clear? I’m sorry, I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

“You’re not, you’re not, Bernadetta. You’re wonderful. I’m just as nervous. I…I want to kiss you. If that’s okay—”

He was cut off as Bernie lifted to her toes, one hand on his chest, the other gently cupping his cheek. She stopped a scant few inches from his lips, close enough to feel his breath, to feel her lips brush his when she whispered a breath of a word.

“Yes.”

His lips were so gentle, she barely felt them, unsure, like he was still asking if it’s okay. His hands settled on her hips, steadying her and holding her up. Her knees shook so hard, she thought she might have fallen to the ground without his support.

They broke away after that brief touch, but… she felt something from it. Not strong, not yet. The potential was there.

And judging by his glistening eyes, it seemed he felt something as well. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, thinking. Would now be a good time to say it? Was it too early? But he was waiting for her to say more, say something, biting his lower lip. “Can we sit? I want to tell you something important.”

After the first time her heart had been broken, she stopped to think, to consider her feelings. She had felt terrible, but it had given her a chance to really think about and understand herself.

So, with her hand in his, she explained how she was demisexual. How she liked him, she really, truly did, but she may or may not ever want a more physical relationship. She explained how her attraction and desire was focused on trust, on an emotional bond, and while she was sure she felt romantic attraction for him, she wasn’t sure how deep her physical attraction would go. If he wanted more, she might not be worth his time—

“Nope, stop,” he said, cutting her off. “You’re worth so much more than my time, Bernie.”

“Rude,” she huffed, even around her shy grin. He gripped her hand tighter, lacing their fingers together more closely.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, like who you are is something to be ashamed of. I love you for you, and—”

A beat passed.

“L-love?”

“Ah.”

\---

Only a few weeks after that found Ashe saying tearful, painful goodbyes to his family, giving and receiving well-wishes from the home he had grown up in. An agreement to visit every few moons, a promise from his siblings to practice and visit _him_ someday, on the surface.

Bernie was still afraid, afraid that they were moving too fast, that Ashe would change his mind about moving in with her, but on that first night, when they did nothing but cuddle together on her couch, trading soft words and softer kisses, she was so sure.

She was sure about the warmth in her chest that dripped down to her belly when Ashe looked at her with that _look._

It was a look she had only seen directed at her once, before. It was only a feeling she had reciprocated once, before.

Ashe brought those feelings to the surface again, and this time, when his mouth moved to hers, she didn’t dare stop it, didn’t dare slow it down.

He tasted like the sea, and she wanted to drown in him.

\---

For over a year and a half, they lived together, just the two of them.

(Ashe, to her surprise, found assistant work with Sylvain, of all people, after an interview which took place over dinner in their home:

“Can you read?”

“Yes! I learned two months ago!”

“You’re hired.”)

Their relationship was easy, relaxed, with no tension, no pressure. Something Bernadetta desperately needed.

That changed one summer day when Yuri blew into their lives, a tornado swathed in soft breezes.

_______________________________

Bernie stares at her book. Her book, had it a pair of eyes, would be staring back, and they would be in a staring contest that Bernie would be _losing_ because this book is far more powerful than she is. But she is halfway through it; the end is nigh, book.

The weather today is nice and warm, and they have their windows open to let the breeze into their apartment, strong enough to push their red curtains in and out, rustling along the floor. The smell of sun soaks into their walls, their carpet, and Bernie loves it.

They are curled up on their living room couch again, each relegated to their place: Ashe, curled up in one corner, glasses low on his nose as he flips through his newly replaced paperback. Bernie, in the center, the book wide open in front of her, where she can see it, and it can see her. And Yuri in in his own corner, sitting closer to Bernie than Ashe is but still not quite touching. He’s leaning over her shoulder, checking out her work, and Bernie can feel the tension building in her shoulders. Sometimes Yuri can be far too curious for his own good, far too curious to be anything but annoying.

He doesn’t say a word as his eyes flick between her and the book, but his thoughts are so loud and palpable that she’s afraid they will smudge the ink. He’s thinking of _something._ And when Yuri thinks of _something_ so hard, it usually isn’t great.

If he’s holding back, today’s _something_ will probably end up causing a fight. He’s good for holding his tongue when he thinks it’s a problem he can solve on his own (common). Though, sometimes, he’ll swallow that pride of his and actually speak to Bernie and Ashe (rare).

It’s a problem they need to work on.

 _(Aren’t I also a problem you need to work on?_ the book taunts Bernie.)

She loves Yuri. She really, really does. Their history is far too deep for her to not hold affection for him. But man, if he does not drive her _bonkers_ sometimes.

And has he ever been making her nuts the past couple of weeks. Bernie is busy, _busy_ trying to finish this book.

(She can’t even look at Sylvain when they pass in the hallway, not matter how friendly of a front he puts on over his clear irritation and disappointment in her. She suspects that he’s complaining to Dedue about her, too, because the way Dedue says ‘hello’ to her just screams ‘I’m disappointed in you.’)

(She bought Dedue a pitcher plant as an apology. Ashe, upon delivering it during one of his cooking nights with Dedue, reported that Dedue was grateful, but confused. Of course Bernie would make it worse.)

Between her book, only half-finished, and the pressure from Sylvain—

(If he asks, ‘how’s it going?’ one more time she might explode.)

Well, she is wound up, clock ticking down, a veritable Bernie-bomb ready to explode, to destroy everything around her—

“So, how’s it going?” Yuri asks.

Bernie bites down a scream.

So many possible replies bubble to the surface at once, and she finds her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Anger? Laughter? Does she curl deep into the couch, meld into the cushions, become part-couch, part-human, a sofa-monster unleashed upon the unsuspecting world—

“Bernie-bear, I think you need a break,” Yuri says softly, reaching out and taking her hand.

She wrenches it from him with a huff. He recoils back, face flickering, shock and sadness flipping back into practiced neutrality in an instant, but she absolutely cannot be interrupted right now, not when she’s so close. She can’t give into the temptation.

“I’m fine, Yuri,” she says, her tone sharper and snappier than she had intended. Yuri lifts a brow.

“That doesn’t sound fine, love. Seriously, I think it’s time for you to put down the pen. Let’s go on a walk,” he says as he stands and reaches for her again.

She isn’t sure why she does it, what specifically is grating against her right now. Maybe it’s Yuri’s patronizing tone, or maybe it’s that he just doesn’t get it, that she needs silence and focus right now. A break does sound like a good idea, and she knows it, but the fact that Yuri is _pushing_ it makes her not want to take it.

“I said I’m fine!” she shouts this time, the yell punctuated by a loud pop as she slaps his hand away.

She and Yuri stare at each other in shock for a moment. She immediately wants to apologize, but at the same time, Yuri is to blame as well. So she says nothing, answered equally by Yuri’s silence. Ashe is the one who shifts, putting his book down on the table and breaking the silence.

“Guys,” he says, his voice cautious like he’s speaking to the feral cats he likes to feed around their neighborhood, “Let’s just calm down—”

That gets him two steely glares, warning him to back off. He doesn’t because he is Ashe, and it is like he must drown the world in positivity. “We’re all tense here, so Yuri, maybe leave her alone for now, and Bernie, don’t slap our partner and try to take a break soon, hm?” He smiles softly at them, bats his eyelashes, which is how he usually gets his way.

Whatever he intended to happen here, though, does not happen. Instead, he gets two simultaneous shouts of “Stay out of it!”

“Right, right, okay, I’ll just…” he trails off, curling back into the couch, arms wrapped around a cushion as he watches with wide eyes.

“Bernadetta, you need to take a break,” Yuri starts again. He can’t see what Bernie sees: too much work, left undone and messy, disapproving eyes on her always. Always. Her father would laugh at her if he saw her like this. He would revel in her failure. “You’re going to burn out.”

“You don’t know what I need, Yuri! I’m beginning to think you don’t know me at all!” If he did, he would know to leave her alone right now.

His eyes harden, his irritation simmers, but he doesn’t let it boil over. “Bernie, I know you, I promise. And I know you’re tired and—”

She won’t let him finish that patronizing thought. “I still have _work_ to do, Yuri. You don’t get it, neither of you do! Your work doesn’t define you, isn’t all that’s good about you!” Not fair, as Ashe has no other options and to be honest, she doesn’t even know _exactly_ what Yuri does.

(Neither she nor Ashe want to know.)

But still, she bulldozes through. “No one will be disappointed if you make a mistake! I have to keep going or I’m going to let everyone down!”

“You won’t let me or Ashe down—”

“You don’t matter!” she yells, then slaps her hands over her mouth as she realizes what she has said. “I don’t mean it like that, I just mean—”

Yuri lifts a hand, the same one she slapped away, to stop her. “I’ll get out of your way. Sorry for bothering you,” he says, spinning on his heels, grabbing his key and wallet from the kitchen table, hand resting on the door as he slips on is shoes.

“Yuri, where are you going?” Ashe says, weary and tired, as he leaps from the couch, padding softly after him.

“Stay here. I just need to clear my head. I’ll come back soon.”

“Yuri…” Bernadetta whispers, just quiet enough that he barely hears it, a chance for him to answer or ignore it.

He sighs, then hums, discontent. “I have stuff to take care of, anyway. I’ll come back,” he says, opening the door. Stuff to take care of doesn’t mean anything good, making both Ashe and Bernie pause. Ignoring the nature of Yuri’s work is an unspoken rule to maintain the peace in this house. “I love you both.”

The door closes and locks with a resounding click.

Bernie holds back the first sniffle, and stifles the second with a hiccup, but by the third, a tear has rolled down her cheek. Ashe is looking at her, questioning, and she wipes the tear away and swallows the rest.

“I’m going to keep working for a while,” she says, before sitting back down and doing just that. Ashe doesn’t push and picks his book back up. Bernadetta doesn’t hear a single page turn.

\---

Bernie has pushed her worries away enough to get back to work. Maybe she can do at least one thing right, though the nagging worry still sits in her gut. At some point Ashe gets up to make some dinner, and Bernie barely notices the lack of his presence, only hears the sounds coming from the kitchen.

Yuri is smart, and strong. He got himself out of trouble, had even saved her before. Yuri is so, so much more than her.

If he leaves, and Ashe goes with him—

Ashe has a sense for when she’s spiraling, she’s noticed. That, or he heard her panicked breathing from the kitchen. He sits silently next to her, shifting closer and closer until she can’t take it and closes the distance herself, flinging herself into his chest. He catches her and their arms wrap around each other. He runs a soothing hand up and down her back, whispering placations and sweet nothings.

“I ruin everything,” Bernie whimpers.

“You absolutely do not, Bernie. Yuri will come back, and we can talk.” He entwines his fingers in her hair, pulls her to the crook of his neck. She doesn’t have an answer for him, and they fall into silence, the only sound the shifting of his fingers along her spine.

Time seems to slips away, the last rays of the late afternoon dipping into total darkness as she’s cradled into Ashe’s warmth. She feels herself calming, slowly, fluttering heartbeats come more and more slowly. She’s almost totally relaxed, drowsy against Ashe’s chest when the lock clicks and the doorknob rattles.

Ashe twists, still clutching Bernie, and in comes Yuri carrying a white box. He sees them and freezes.

“Yuri?” Ashe asks like it could be anyone but him. Bernie shifts to let Ashe rise, leaving her alone on the couch as he strides to Yuri. His warmth lingers, and she wraps her arms around herself to try and hold it longer.

Yuri puts the box on the table and pulls Ashe close, pushing a hand against the small of Ashe’s back to kiss him deeply. Deep, deeper, his hold on Ashe tightens, and Ashe moves his hands to Yuri’s chest, pushing him back just a little, gasping for breath when they break apart. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Yuri replies, his eyes cutting past Ashe to Bernie. She stands as he comes to her.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I was pushy.”

“Me, too. Sorry. Seiros, I’m sorry I slapped you,” says Bernadetta. “I was snappy. You were right, I needed to take a break.”

He brightly smiles at that, making her want to snatch back the words before he can be smug about it. But instead, he says, “No, you told me to back off, and I didn’t listen. Your work is important. But, you’re more important, Bernie. Just… don’t hurt yourself over this. Look, I brought cake as a peace offering. Should we cut it now?”

She sighs, feeling the tension drain out of her as she takes a step closer to him. She isn’t disappointed when he opens his arms for her to fall into. He smells like lavender, his body wash of choice, and the sea, oddly enough. Bernie buries her face into his shirt to take in as much as she can.

She feels more than sees Ashe wrap himself over Yuri’s back, feeling the shift in weight, can hear Ashe whispering in Yuri’s ear. Don’t leave like that again.

Bernie feels a small pit of guilt open inside her.

Yuri ruffles her hair and deftly slips out of his partners’ holds, heading to the kitchen. “I’ll finish dinner, Ashe… unless you meant to leave half the potatoes unsliced and the chicken raw.”

“I did, Yuri. I did mean to do that,” Ashe huffs. “Sit down, you’ve been gone all day—”

“Nope, I’ve caused enough trouble,” he says with a wink as he sets a pan to warm on the stovetop. “You two have cake and relax.”

“Cake before dinner?” Ashe asks.

“Put away the older brother instincts for a moment, love,” quips Yuri.

Bernie shrugs. “We’re adults, and I recognize that box— he got the good stuff. Is it the strawberry? It’s the strawberry, isn’t it?”

“You’ll have to open and see,” he says with a barely concealed grin. It’s the strawberry, then.

She bumps Yuri with her hip as she sweeps past him to get plates. He bumps back and shifts away before she can get him again.

“Oh, this isn’t over,” she says, cutting and plating a slice of the soft, moist strawberry shortcake, the fresh sugary smell of it tickling her nose, making sure to get a perfectly red and round strawberry for the top. She then plops herself on the counter next to where Yuri is slicing vegetables. He hums, raising his eyes to her for a peeking glance before returning to his prep.

“You’re not going to smash that in my face while I’m making you food, are you?” he mumbles.

She sticks her tongue out at him, “Of course not! That would be a waste of cake.” She stabs a bite with her fork and raises it to Yuri’s mouth. “Say ‘ah’, sweet Yuri-bear.”

The flush on Yuri’s cheeks is instant and far too conspicuous— he can’t hide this one away no matter how hard he tries.

Ashe laughs from the kitchen table.

“Well played,” says Yuri, “but I’m not as easily flustered as you two.”

“The blush on the back of your neck says otherwise,” Ashe helpfully points out. Yuri flicks him a flat stare before finally taking the bite from Bernie.

“There, horrible punishment dealt,” Yuri deadpans.

Bernadetta readies another bite. “Oh no, my dear, it isn’t.”

\---

By the time dinner is ready, cake eaten, and kitchen cleaned, the dark clouds from earlier have almost all but moved past, leaving them floating in cozy domestic bliss. They spend the evening curled up together again to watch a movie in their bedroom on her laptop balanced on Yuri’s lap while she and Ashe lie on his shoulders.

As they lay down to sleep that night, Bernadetta realizes she hasn’t thought about the book in hours.

The guilt punches her in the stomach.

And with that realization, another worry seeps its way through her subconscious, reminding her of something she felt, but didn’t notice.

Yuri, usually free and lax with his affection, hasn’t kissed her all day. His kisses are deep, consuming, make her toes curl in just the right way. Of course, she wasn’t vying for kisses, but she looks forward to the intimacy, the closeness.

And then, as she thinks, one more crushing worry adds itself to the top of the pile: she isn’t craving it, not his sensual affections. The attraction that simmered on low was there for Ashe, but if she reaches really reached for Yuri’s, only a flickering spark remains.

She swallows a shaking breath, a stifled sob, and tries not to think about it. This is normal for her, right? It doesn’t mean anything.

(Yet.)

It’s hard to separate the three worries that have come together in one twisted knot. She’s letting Ashe and Yuri down. She’s going to hurt them.

She lies awake for hours, wracked with her thoughts.

__________________________________

The time in her life before she came to Fhirdiad is a black ink stain in her mind, one that she dripped purposefully onto her memories. However, the ink occasionally flecks peeled away from the writing underneath, revealing it for what it is.

Yuri is usually directly involved in scratching out that ink.

Bernie met Yuri long, long before she moved to Fhirdiad, though she wouldn’t realize it for many years.

When Bernie was a child, around ten years old, her father trained her to develop her enchantment magic. Her dream, she had told him, was to use it for writing like in the books she read— stories where the images and feelings jumped from the pages.

Her books were gone within a week. And at first, she tried to sneak in new ones, but they’d always, always be found, and he would always know if she had one, even at school.

Using her magic for writing wasn’t unique, her father said, and there was no way to profit greatly from it. They needed to keep their family name powerful. Keep them relevant in the right circles.

It was all on her, he said, all on little Bernadetta’s shoulders to keep their family afloat. Save the name from certain death, imminent demise. All on her, all on her. Her failure, he emphasized again and again and again, could bring her family great ruin.

She hesitantly accepted her father’s way of training her magic, the course _he_ wished it to take, a new way to use (abuse) her soft enchantments.

Enchant writing on the _skin_ and enchant the person themselves. Put stronger images in their minds, one they couldn’t escape from as it seeped into their being, their soul.

Practice, for a while, remained on the page, allowing her to perfect the lines, the images. Then came practice on herself, though she found she couldn’t enchant the lines when they were drawn on her own skin. Still, it was fun to draw and write on herself all the time. A Bernie-easel.

She was getting better, she thought, except she found the more she practiced, the darker her lines got, the sharper the images. While she was overjoyed at first with the clarity, some of her enchantments began to take on the darker hues themselves, no matter how she tried to make bright, colorful works.

When she told her father this, he simply smiled, praised her for allowing her magic to change with her.

She didn’t want it to change like this.

(She would realize, later, that it wasn’t actually her fault.)

But then came the day when, having just turned fourteen, she returned home from school to find her father seated in their plush living room with a boy. He was a bit older than her, but he wore the extra years heavily. He looked worn, from his messy purple hair to his faded shirt and jeans to his scuffed shoes. His eyes met hers, but the light in them was dimmed.

“This young man has agreed to work with us for your training,” her father said. She shivered at the note of glee in her father’s voice, contrasted with his never changing stern expression.

She hadn’t known at the time that this was Yuri. He went by a different name, one to keep his identity secret, he would tell her later. She wouldn’t remember the name he told her at the time. Yuri would eventually come to take over these memories, both the name and the person himself.

She was to enchant lines on Yuri, see what visions she could impart on him, see how strongly they affected him.

Suddenly, Bernadetta was forced to confront the knowledge that her magic, when used on humans, was infinitely more difficult to use, but also far more potent, far more difficult to control.

The first attempt was nothing short of disastrous to her, and nothing short of great success to her father, when Yuri spent the next hour locked in a waking nightmare, unable to be shaken awake, no matter how desperately she tried.

Her magic wasn’t supposed to do this. It was supposed to be pure, and good, and help people.

Maybe it was going wrong because it was Bernie using it, not someone better.

Bernie was careless, Bernie wasn’t good enough—but her father was delighted.

Picturing lush fields of flowers, sugary cakes, cute animals, anything happy and joyful, anything she could to avoid hurting Yuri, again and again ended in her failure, his pain. Bernie could only make bad things. Bernie couldn’t create anything good or beautiful or nice. Bernie could only hurt people with her magic.

Several failed attempts, building to more and more intense nightmares, led her to seek Yuri out.

He stayed with them in their home, offered to him by her father. It wasn’t a small place by any means, and they had the extra space. It didn’t take Bernie long to figure out that he probably had nowhere else to go, that part of the deal was the roof over his head.

(She could relate with not having anywhere else to run to, despite how much she wanted to.)

Just where had her father found this boy?

The night wrapped around her as she snuck through the shadows to his room, staying small and quiet as her father had taught her. She found Yuri’s door – second floor, last one on the left—and knocked lightly. Enough that he’d know she was there if he was awake, enough to let him keep sleeping peacefully if he wasn’t.

He was.

The door opened just a crack as he took her in.

“To what do I owe this visit? Are you going to work my dreams now, too?”

She shook her head. “No, I just want to talk.”

He regarded her for just a moment before opening the door wider, letting her in past him.

The room he lived in was bare, only a bed and a dresser. It was clean in the way that there was nothing to get dirty in the first place – no knick-knacks, decorations, or personal belongings visible anywhere.

“Taking in the sights?” he asked, striding past her to seat himself on his bed, patting the place next to him. She hesitated but ended up sitting at the foot of the bed, as far away as she could be from him.

He chuffed a laugh, crossing his legs as he turned to her. “So, my lady Bernadetta, what brings you to my humble abode?”

She fidgeted, picking at the skin on her nails while she gathered her words. She had planned them, written them down on herself before washing them off again, but they had stopped at Yuri’s door, refused to follow her in.

“I’m horrible, and I’m sorry. I’m hurting you because I can’t control my magic like I want to,” she said. “I’m sorry, I’m just sorry.”

He pursed his lips. “They’re just visions. All in my head. They can’t actually hurt me. All you’re doing is giving me a free horror flick.” He cocked his head, and his light lavender hair fell gently to the side.

She bit her lip, casting her eyes away from him. “Still, it can’t be good for you! No matter how hard I try, you always end up with nightmares! I just don’t get it. I’m the worst.”

“It’s not… the most terrible. If anything, it’s entertaining. I’ve been subjected to worse.”

“Like what?” Bernadetta asked. She gasped and slammed her hands over her mouth, “No wait! I’m sorry, that’s way too personal.”

He shook his head. “Only natural to be curious. But you’re right. Off-limits.” He smiled slyly at her. “We can trade, though. Got any secrets for me?”

Bernadetta hummed. “Maybe—”

They were cut off by shuffling in the hallway, footsteps going down the creaky stairs. Bernadetta held her breath, afraid that her father would hear even that if he hadn’t already heard them talking.

She hadn’t been explicitly forbidden from speaking with Yuri outside of her training, but the unspoken rule was there. And she didn’t want to do anything that would make her father angry, get Yuri in even more trouble than he already was. If she was going to do anything right by him, it would be to protect him from her father.

(She couldn’t even protect him from herself.)

The moment passed, and Yuri weighed her with a heavy look.

“Come back again,” he said. “If you ever feel like it. Tell me those secrets.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes.

She stood, headed quietly to the door, and listened for a moment. Nothing. Now or never.

“We’ll see,” she said before slipping back out into the darkness.

\---

Her magic got worse. Steadily, an upward slope that she fought against, like she was being drip-fed nightmares that would amplify ten-fold by her spells, all directed at Yuri.

Their meetings were sparse over the next year, and eventually, Bernadetta passed fifteen, edged towards sixteen. Yet, despite how infrequently they could safely meet, Bernie had started to really come to know Yuri.

He wasn’t forthcoming with details about himself, but what little Bernie could glean helped her understand him. He didn’t have a choice in this, he seemed. His mother was unwell and out of work, and he was taking on whatever jobs he could to help her. This was just one of the many he had taken on over the years. One of the kinder ones, he assured her, because she was here.

Damn her father.

Her father was even worse than she had believed for taking advantage of someone as kind-hearted as Yuri. Her friend, and they _were_ friends, she thought, her first, never complained about anything, and she knew it was just a cover, just to spare her feelings. Her magic was getting steadily stronger, the nightmares more potent, despite how she tried to fight back.

She wanted to protect him.

She had started to trust him, really trust him.

“Have I ever told you what I really want to use my magic for?” she asked, knowing full well she hadn’t. Still, the bags under Yuri’s eyes made her want to speak, to take his mind off it somehow.

Her visions were strong, but they were wrong. Always wrong. He father was pleased, but she felt terrible. She was hurting Yuri every time she used it.

All she could do was produce horrible things.

Yuri raised his eyebrows in exaggerated, mocking interest. “Oh, do tell.”

She puffed her cheeks at him. “I want to be a writer. Not whatever my father is thinking.” She still didn’t quite understand what he had planned for her, why all of this was necessary, why he was so happy that she was _failing_ so badly. “That’s what the magic is supposed to be used for, anyway.”

No mocking laughter followed, no indignant response, no sarcastic bite. Whatever Yuri was expecting her to say, he had been wrong. The mock interest plastered onto his face flashed into genuine curiosity, arched brows, his mouth popped into a small ‘o’ for a slip of a second, just a second, before it melted away again. “You’re serious. You’re not… you don’t want this?”

She shook her head so hard her neck popped. “No! Of course not! What sane person would? I don’t want to hurt anyone, physically or not!” She moved her hands back to her lap to twiddle her thumbs. “I want to create good things.”

She jolted when he reached out, grabbing her wrist. His eyes were blazing, a ferocity she hadn’t seen in him before. “Bernadetta, listen to me—I think things are about to get so, so much worse for you. You have to start acting. Pretend you can’t work your magic. I don’t know.” The air in the room had chilled to freezing levels, but the hand on her wrist burned. “Stall until I can figure something out and get you away from here.”

What was Yuri talking about? The cold air seeped into her core, freezing her though, her chilled lips barely able to form the single word. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, I had my doubts, but I thought you were in on it…” he was rambling, and Bernadetta took her other hand and held it to his cheek. His attention snapped fully back on her. “Bernie, does he ever give you anything? Medicine, or food that tastes off? I think he’s trying to give you dark—”

He never got to finish.

The door slammed open with a bang that rang in Bernie’s ears. Her back had been to the door, but she could see the shadow of her father spread across the room.

The man grabbed Yuri, wrenching him from Bernadetta.

She hadn’t known at the time that she would see Yuri again. Even if she had known, it still would have driven nails into her heart just as much, watching him be dragged out, desperation and fear plain on his face as he struggled against her father.

Her first real friend. The first person she had ever opened up to so fully, taken to Goddess knows where because of _her._

\---

She followed Yuri’s advice, and from the very next day, she pretended as if her magic stopped working. She cited stress, to which her father immediately pinned the blame on Yuri and the lies he had told her.

She agreed.

(She cried when she returned to her room.)

\---

Over four years passed during which she, freshly twenty, in her second ever fit of stubborn defiance, acquired a secret journal. She kept it safely hidden, where her father would never find it, and began to write.

And oh, when the words flowed from her fingers to the page, black ink on white paper, bold and there, she felt alive. She felt her purpose being written into the pulp and fibers.

Her enchantment magic was still… not what she wanted. Her images tended to take on darker turns than she wanted, inky, vague, misty. Not only were they cloudy, but they incited a sense of unease, unknowing.

(Closer to the end, they began to border on violent, her magic shifting and twisting in ways that she couldn’t control, that she couldn’t change.)

(An idiot, she couldn’t accept that she was no good. She kept trying. She was no good, but she kept trying.)

Despite the fact that she was no longer using her magic to hurt people, it still wasn’t right. Murky. Bloodied and bruised.

Practice, she convinced herself, would be the key to changing it.

Instead, her father found her journal, and that was what changed everything.

(The memories here are still mostly covered in ink. Yuri has not yet scratched it away.)

(What she does remember is that—)

He grabbed her. Dragged her to his office. There was a small box, plain and smooth steel. He opened the box. Took out a vial.

The vial held a red liquid that shimmered like silk, a deep, enticing color, a glass of fine wine. It sang and called to her. She wanted to both drink it and slap it away.

She did neither as her father grabbed her arm, yanked up her sleeve to reveal her vulnerable skin.

She was afraid, so afraid of whatever he held. It would change her. Ruin her.

His mistake was not checking her for weapons.

His mistake was pulling her so close.

His mistake was training her too well.

His mistake was sending away her friend.

Two unexpected things happened in rapid succession:

First, she pulled a pen from her pocket, slashed at him with it along his own arm. A touch, only a touch, and the line glowed a brilliant gold. He collapsed to the floor, hands to his head, screaming.

As soon as he fell came the second shock. _Yuri_ burst into the room, knocking into the door so hard Bernie thought it would come off its hinges, out of breath, but eyes sharp, on a mission. His soft hair and piercing eyes remained unchanged over the years while his clothes, all black and fitted, shoes shining, were all new, all different, almost making him someone she didn’t know.

He waltzed past Bernie, like he owned the room. A slam to the back of the head shut her father up, leaving him crumpled pathetically to the ground. With that taken care of, Yuri grabbed the vial from his limp fingers, locked it back into the box, slid the box into his bag.

He took in the scene with one sweeping look. His eyes fell on hers, widened. But then he smiled at her, all confident charm.

“There you are. Sorry it took so long. Guess I have great timing, hmm?”

She let out the breath she had been holding.

“Com’on,” Yuri said, grabbing her hand, dragging her out behind him.

She held on for dear life, the weight and warmth of Yuri’s hand bringing her back to reality. She had always dreamt of being spirited away, had never imagined it to be Yuri, but now that it was happening, it was the most natural feeling in the world. Her hand in Yuri’s felt freeing.

They slid into her father’s sleek black car parked in their driveway. It rumbled to life with a turn of the swiped key.

They were gone.

\---

Bernadetta awoke sometime later, when the car came to a stop outside Enbarr Station, easily a two-hour trip from her house.

“Com’on,” said Yuri, gently nudging her awake. “We’ll take a train to Fhirdiad.”

“I’ve always wanted to go,” she mumbled, still drugged with sleep, “I read about a really good cake shop there.”

He smirked, “I’ll buy you all the cake you want when we get there.”

It was only after he guided her out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition, doors unlocked, and had purchased two one-way tickets, did awareness hit her.

Realization, and its best friend, panic, settled on her chest. She had fallen asleep in a near stranger’s car. Well, her father’s car, driven by a near stranger.

Still. Bernie hadn’t been afraid.

She hadn’t been afraid. She wasn’t afraid. Not of Yuri, at least.

The lack of the feeling was so painfully refreshing, she nearly gasped.

She knew him, despite the years. She knew him, and the trust she built in him was still there, and his hand in hers felt right.

She called him the old name, the one she has long forgotten, and he shook his head.

“I had to drop that one. I go by Yuri these days.”

Yuri, whoever he really was, had saved her.

\---

The train ride, an overnight sleeper that would take around eight hours to cross most of the continent, went by in relative silence with the two seated side by side, brushing against each other without fully committing to touching.

With the exception of his hand, of course. Bernie refused to let go of the comfort, and he didn’t deny her.

She had trouble falling asleep after her nap and tried to pry answers out of Yuri, but he remained tight-lipped.

So instead, she watched the landscape shift and mold outside her window as the raced along. Broad leafed oaks sharpened and straightened into evergreen pine forests; flecks of snow began to litter the ground in white patches.

The train went on and on to the north, charging through the changes outside and brushing them off without a care.

She could learn something from it, she thought.

\---

When they arrived in Fhirdiad the next morning, Yuri booked them a hotel room for three nights, explaining that it would take a couple of days for everything to be ready for her. He told her he had a friend, a landlord, who had an open apartment. She was worried that meant someone was getting kicked out, but no, he said, it’s because the previous tenant was moving in with someone else. She could meet them both soon, they’re nice people, he told her.

Strangers, great.

But Yuri was holding on to her, guiding her. She would be okay.

It turned out he had swiped more than just the car keys. By the time her father noticed the money missing from his accounts, it was long drawn, cold hard cash in their hands, redeposited and safe into a new account for Bernie.

(“He’s going to be angry,” she said.)

(“He’s not going to say anything,” Yuri replied. “I’ll make sure of it.”)

Despite Bernie’s overwhelming desire to stay inside, hole up for the rest of forever where her father couldn’t find her, where no one could find her, Yuri hauled her out to go into the city, unwillingly at first, but it, eventually, became fun. He was fun. Museums, parks, art galleries, restaurants with foods she had never tried before. It was all so new to her.

She experienced so much life in those few days. So much she hadn’t known she was missing.

And her feelings towards Yuri shifted into something new, something else, as well. Yuri was a comfort, and their friendship, rekindled from years past sparked into a comfortable warmth, but it wasn’t the only feeling that flared to life. Something _else_ in her was simmering, bubbling, boiling.

(She wouldn’t know it at the time, that she was becoming attracted to him slowly as they became closer, as their bond deepened, as she trusted him more, as she fell in love with him harder. She didn’t have the word demisexual yet, but when she got it, she would look back to this moment and realize.)

Before, when she had looked at Yuri, she had seen him, and only him. Her friend, her accomplice now.

She trusted him. She knew him. She had gone through this horrifying experience with him, _together_ with him.

But now she had caught herself more than once drinking him in, eyes wandering and roving over his face, his body. Imagining his eyes on her (though she thought she caught him staring at least once), imagining the hand she held touching her, exploring her. Imagining his lips, often graced with a sly smirk, on hers, at her neck, her breasts, trailing along her stomach, dipping lower and lower, in between her legs, teasing, licking, coaxing her alive until she screamed.

The third night they were together, something passed between them, some unspoken communication, something she had never known before, never thought of in context of herself. Something she had only read in stolen glimpses of the few novels she could steal away.

He kissed her, that night, as they sat together on her bed. They had been cuddled up, watching some stupid show on the TV, whatever had been playing. She didn’t know.

One second, she was laying against him, head on his shoulder as he lazily dragged a hand through her hair.

The next, she was looking into his eyes, and he was looking back. She didn’t know how long he had been watching her, but he didn’t look away, didn’t move away as she pulled herself closer. The hand running through her hair became a push, gentle encouragement towards his lips.

Their lips brushed, then pushed and danced together, in rhythm, in harmony.

It was electric, shocking, the years and years they had known each other building up into this, deepening and deepening and winding itself down into her core. She craved intimacy, to be closer and closer to him. A kindling set to burn, waiting for Yuri to strike the match.

She found herself _wanting_ for the first time, wanting _him_ , and Yuri was more than willing to give into her desires. She teased and tasted him, the sweet sugar of the cake they had shared lingering on his lips and tongue, the swipe of it leaving her shivering with static, leaving her wondering, imagining again, what if, what if his lips followed the path to where, more than ever, she _wanted_ him to be?

Yuri asked her what she wanted, asked for her desires. She acquiesced, told him, revealed herself and her desires.

He willingly spoiled her and wholly indulged in her.

And she in him.

\---

She awoke the next morning to his eyes on her, drinking her in, and even if it was still a little strange, she found herself grinning as she curled into his bare chest. Their uncovered skin brushing against each other set off firecrackers of want in her again. She knew if she asked, Yuri would indulge her again and again, consuming her like the sweetest delicacy. She burned.

But, like always, she couldn’t stop her thoughts. Couldn’t stop thinking of the what-ifs. “If you hadn’t come back for me…” she mumbled, the grin faltering.

“You would’ve been okay. You’re smart and strong, and your father knows that now, knows better than to ever hurt you again,” Yuri whispers into her hair. She doesn’t believe him, and she’s sure he doesn’t believe it, either. “But I’m glad I made it back just in time. I was coming to get you.”

“Whatever he was going to give me, I was afraid.”

“Mer-blood,” Yuri whispered. “I had found out he had been getting a supply of it, small doses, for…well, for food and drink. I think he had been slipping it to you for a while, building up your tolerance to prepare you for an injection.”

Her whole body went rigid, her mouth clamped shut, and only the gentle strokes of her hair kept her grounded, kept the bile in her stomach and not all over the bed.

“It’s how people get dark magic,” Yuri explained, “whatever his motives, they weren’t good.” He kissed her hairline. The touch reverberated through her body, softened her muscles. “Your enchantments were probably affected by it. I can’t imagine the effects will last more than a moon or two now that you won’t be exposed anymore.” He smirked, smug and fond and infuriatingly pointed. “You can create your stories now.”

It would be nice, a nice dream to cling onto. But. “Not when he comes back for me,” she replied in a whisper.

“He won’t, I swear.” Yuri sat up to check the clock. “We still have a few hours before we need to head out…” he said, running gentle fingers along her back.

“Hold me,” Bernadetta demanded and reached to pull Yuri back to her.

She folded into him, like it was where she was always meant to be.

\---

That afternoon, he took her to the apartment, introduced her to the friends he had mentioned before. Felix, whose family owned the building, and Sylvain, who worked in editing, Yuri emphasized. Here, she would be safe and secure.

He couldn’t stay. Not right now. His work, what had brought him back to her in the first place, was taking him away again. Things he needed to see to.

She thought he might have meant her father; whatever he had been involved in, tried to drag her into, was something Yuri had been watching. He didn’t say much, but she could figure out the surface details on her own.

He promised. He promised he would come back as soon as it was over.

He slid out of her life again, and she waited. Recovered, began writing. A story of a princess and a knight.

One year passed, and she handed the manuscript to Sylvain just as she began to grow tight on money.

Yuri hadn’t come back yet, but she waited. The cracks in her heart began to spread, broken by roots of distrust growing down and down.

Two years passed, and she was able to quit her part-time work for now.

Her heart shattered. He wouldn’t come back. Not for her.

Heartbreak colored her next work, not in the same way the blood had, but in a way that reached out to others, made her genuine, made her well-known.

Did Yuri read it, she wondered.

Three years passed, and she was doing well for herself. Better than well. She was writing every day, she was forming friendships, she was fine.

She met Ashe on a beach one day and fell in love again.

The fourth year passed, and she had long given up on Yuri ever returning, had told Ashe the story.

(He didn’t blame her for the blood. He would never blame her for that, he said.)

They both moved on.

Ashe seemed to disagree with her dismissal of Yuri, of her erasure of her love for him, seemed sad that it had ended like that, had believed there was more to it.

Bernie knew he was wrong. He was wrong.

He wasn’t wrong.

\---

Ashe had to practically drag her to the park that morning, notes in hand, just to get her outside into the sunlight. This work was fighting her, she was fighting it, and Ashe wasn’t having it in their home. Once she was outside, though, it wasn’t half bad. The Garland Moon sun was warm, the hydrangeas in full bloom. It was a rare sunny day in the middle of the wettest season of the year, and they found a nice, soft patch of green grass to rest in. Ashe rested against her, flipping through the pages of his book, as she continued working.

Truthfully, she was stuck again on the same point. It was just a wall between her and continuing on, she couldn’t get past it and into the rest of the story. Not yet.

The pressure was on, what with the popularity of her first two works and the hype for this one. Up and coming author, she was called, good, great even, with potential for even more.

Bernie, with potential? The only one who had seen potential in her was her father.

No. That’s not true. Ashe believed in her, believed in what she wanted to do.

(Yuri had believed in her, too.)

(Stop thinking about him, she told herself.)

She wasn’t going to let this book win! She wasn’t going to get it get her down! The only one allowed to get Bernie down was Bernie!

(And she was good at that.)

A groan escaped her, drawing Ashe’s immediate attention. “Let me see,” he said, adjusting himself so that his chin was propped on her shoulder. He read over the notes she held. A sound of surprise, a hum, a soft ‘oh’, and he turned his head, kissed her cheek. “It’s good.”

“No, it’s not,” she mumbled. His response was another, longer kiss pressed to her cheeks.

“Stop that,” he chastised. “I don’t know how to make you believe it’s good, but it is. Can I… take your mind off it? Do something to make you feel better?”

His body was a warm weight against hers as he sagged against her, something she was suddenly all too aware of. Her stomach flipped, and unable to ignore it, she put the notebook down, twisted to face Ashe and pull him into a full, deep kiss. He hummed in appreciation, leaned fully into it, wrapped his arms around her back and drew her in to him.

In the year and a half they had lived together, she had begun to crave him more and more as they grew closer, knowing each other more deeply every day. Their bond was strong, special, pulling her to him again and again. It was easy to lose herself to him in moments like this.

She was so lost now, in fact, she didn’t notice her loose notes flying away in the breeze until the last one took off. She heard the fluttering of the page, broke their kiss, and took in the scene of her hard work soaring away into the unknown.

With a yelp, she and Ashe were up on their feet, ready to give chase, but there was no need.

The pages stopped, frozen mid-air.

They gathered back together, layered perfectly neatly on top of each other.

They floated gently back into Bernie’s hands, in perfect order.

She screamed and dropped them on the ground.

“Really, Bernie-bear? After I went through the trouble to catch those for you?” came a familiar voice with an unfamiliar silky edge. She looked up, and there he was for the first time in four years, smiling the same one he had given her when he left.

“Yuri?” she whispered. Ashe raised a brow and leaned close to murmur in her ear.

“Is he _that_ Yuri?” he asked. She nodded without taking her eyes off Yuri. He had matured over the years. Now at twenty-five, or twenty-six, she couldn’t remember, his face had sharpened, his body had filled. He was still dressed darkly, finely. He was now sporting a lovely face of makeup, long lashed and lined sharply, making his eyes sparkle far more than they had before.

Maybe it wasn’t the makeup. Maybe it was just him, or her.

She bent to grab her notebook, take her eyes off him, see if the vision disappeared, but when she looked up again, he was still there.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, and Ashe took her hand, drawing a flicker of Yuri’s eyes.

“It’s a nice day to visit the park.”

“In Fhirdiad, Yuri. It’s been four years! You promised you’d be back soon. Is four years soon, Yuri? And since when do you know wind magic!” Her voice sharpened word by word, ending an entire octave higher than when she had started. He winced, dropped the smirk. Ashe squeezed her hand.

“Things didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped,” he muttered, the light fluttering out of his eyes for just a moment. They relit brilliantly just as quickly. “Let me treat you to dinner.”

“Are you seriously asking me out now? After four years? After the heartbreak? In front of my boyfriend?”

Yuri blanched. “I can’t make up those years. I know I can’t, but I’d like to move forward. And I’m not only asking you. The offer is for both of you. I’m asking both of you.” He winked at Ashe, who immediately flushed.

She bit back a scream, but she might have let it out anyway if Ashe hadn’t pulled her away immediately.

“Give us a second,” he said as he led Bernie a distance away.

She crossed her arms, huffed at him. “Why?”

“You cared about him,” Ashe explained, “And knowing you, you wouldn’t have if he were a bad person. I think you should at least hear him out just so that you don’t worry about it later.” He sighed and took both of her hands into his own. “Ultimately, it’s your choice, and I will support whatever you decide.”

Bernie bit her cheek. “What if his excuse makes it worse?”

“Then we never seen him again, and you make him a villain in your next story.” Ashe’s eyes flicked to him for a minute, and his cheeks reddened. “Plus, he’s quite attractive.”

Bernie blinked at him. “How can you tell? You don’t even know him.”

“I can just tell. Besides, you knew him. Do you honestly think he would have abandoned you?”

“I barely knew him, not as well as I thought, and I was younger!” she exclaimed louder than she intended. Though, she swallowed down, she had felt like she knew him, every part of him, even if she hadn’t known details. She had felt like they had something special. A bond between them. And that, she knew, was why she still, deep, deep down, trusted him. Knew that Ashe was right. “You’re distracted by his pretty eyes!”

“I mean, they _are_ really pretty—”

Bernadetta huffed, looking back to Yuri. He was pointedly not watching them, far too concentrated on the clouds to be natural. He met their eyes for a brief moment and smirked.

Ashe flushed. Bernadetta groaned.

“If… let’s say something happens, Ashe. I get his explanation and it’s good. I’m just all charmed and flustered. What then?”

“Are you asking what happens if you fall in love with him again?”

She wasn’t sure now, seeing him again, that she ever fell out of it. She nodded anyway.

“Then you give it another try,” Ashe said, a nervous smile on his face, “And hopefully you also stay with me, if that’s not selfish to ask. I wouldn’t mind, Bernie. I trust you.”

She reached up, tucked a piece of Ashe’s hair behind his ear. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve happiness, and if being in love with both of us brings it, then I’ll support you,” he said with a smile. Soft, warm, until it melted and burned into slyness. “Plus, he’s hot.”

She pursed her lips, and sighed, not dignifying that with an answer. Okay, decision made.

She marched back over, Ashe in tow. “Okay. We don’t go out, you come over. I want…I deserve an explanation, Yuri.”

“Of course,” Yuri said. “I’ll cook for us, if you’d like.” Bernie didn’t have to look at Ashe to know there would be stars in his eyes.

“You cook, too?” he said in a gasping breath. Bernadetta shot him a look, and he returned it with a sheepish smile.

“Of course, I’ll go shopping and come over later… tonight?” he asked. Bernie hesitantly nodded. “Still in the same place?” Another nod. “See you later, then?”

“That’s up to you,” she answered, clutching her notebook tight to her chest.

\---

Dinner was a surprisingly pleasant affair at first. Yuri really was a good cook, even if all he made was a simple pasta. He brought a loaf a bread, purchased from her favorite bakery, along with a white box she recognized well. Inside was strawberry cake. Coincidently, it was her favorite.

She couldn’t believe he remembered for so long.

“Normally, I’d have baked my own bread,” he offered, “but not enough time tonight.”

“Bake his own bread, Bernie—he bakes bread, Bernie,” Ashe stage-whispered. She hadn’t realized how easily Ashe’s heart was won. Give him a book and something to eat and he would fall in love, apparently.

She also wondered if the purple hair had anything to do with it.

“Unless that bread can give a proper explanation, I don’t care,” she mumbled, tearing a piece of crusty loaf with her teeth. Damn him, it was delicious.

Eventually, the plates were cleared, the table empty, and there was nothing between them and the looming conversation.

Bernie brought him to their couch – the big red one she and Ashe had chosen together shortly after he moved in—and sat herself between the two of them.

This is probably a conversation she needed to have on her own, without Ashe, and she had no doubts that it would have been fine. That she would be okay without him. But his support was nice. If something went wrong, he would be there for her.

She crossed her arms. Huffed through her nose.

“Okay,” she said. “I don’t know where to go with this. Talk. You’re at least good at that.”

He winced. “I’m sorry, first of all. For everything. For all the pain I caused you. I truly hadn’t expected to be gone that long. The job, contract work, took me out of the city.”

“To where?”

“Enbarr,” he said, cutting his eyes from her.

Cold dread settled in her gut. The way he wouldn’t look at her told her enough, but still she had to ask.

“Did it have to do with my father?”

“Yes.”

“Is he dead?” Whispered, like if she said it softly enough, she wouldn’t get an answer. She was wasn’t sure what answer she wanted.

“No.”

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, relief and despair warring in equal measure. “Are you going to say more than yes or no?” she asked, feeling frustrated with the situation. She hadn’t heard from her father, hadn’t heard from any authorities, anyone looking for her. It’s like she had never existed, had never run away, had never been involved with the man at all.

She just vanished.

How much did Yuri have to do with that?

Yuri shook his head. “Look, it was dangerous work. Your father was involved in something he shouldn’t have been. He could have killed you with that _training_.” He spat out the word, bitter disgust written plainly on his face. “I swear he will never bother you again.”

“Who are you, Yuri?”

He looked at her. “You know who I am. Nothing I told you was a lie. Nothing that happened, either.”

Something sounded off about that. Not lies, but— “Half-truths. You didn’t lie, you just didn’t tell the full story.”

“You’re right.”

Silence followed while she waited on him to say more, but when he didn’t for a long beat, she sighed.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to get dragged into it. I still don’t want you to get dragged into it. But…” he trailed off.

“But what?”

“I missed you.”

And then he stopped, looked at her, waiting for an answer. Waiting for her, not pushing, not taking her hand and getting her out of trouble. Waiting for her to decide on her own.

She hated her answer, what she knew to be the truth. She hated herself so much for it, but she knew it was right, that she had never gotten over him.

“…I missed you, too. But whatever you’re doing…”

“It’s… Look. I can’t tell you everything. You just have to trust me on that. It’s about the mer-blood.”

Ashe had frozen beside her. She twisted, taking him in. Eyes wide, face pale. She cupped his face in her hands, traced a thumb along his cheek. “Do you want to leave—”

“What about mer-blood?” he cut in, his voice leaving shivers down Bernie’s spine with how iced over and cold it had become.

“There are these… poachers, you could call them, who steal the blood to produce dark magic,” Yuri said.

“I see,” Ashe whispered. “And you…?”

“I’m… involved in the efforts to stop them,” Yuri replied, raising a brow. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Ashe said, voice monotone, movements robotic as he got up. “I’m going to go, you two keep talking.”

“Ashe,” Bernadetta said, but he leaned down, kissed the top of her head.

“Give me a bit, I’ll come back out soon.”

He rounded the corner to the hall, and she heard the click of their bedroom door shutting.

“What was that?” Yuri asked, eyes watching the hallway where Ashe had disappeared, trailing after him. Curious, too curious.

“We have our own secrets,” Bernadetta mumbled. “So, what, you saved the world, now you’re back for your prize? Is that what I am to you?” That’s what she’s always been, anyway. To him, to her father. Bernie, a treasure, if only she could be polished up, polished right, polished until none of her imperfections remained.

“No. No, I came back to… try and find you. Try and start again. But you’re perfectly happy now, and I’ve probably just messed up by seeing you again.” Yuri said, not looking at her.

She sighed. “No. You didn’t. I’m…I’m actually glad to see you. To hear your story.” And dammit, he had saved her, had gone back and protected her, was protecting Ashe now even if he didn’t realize it yet.

She was angry, so angry still, but. But.

“So you believe it?”

“Like I said. No lies, just half-truths,” she looked at him. “What half are you hiding now?”

He chuckled bitterly. “I still don’t want to get you involved but, I couldn’t…I couldn’t imagine not seeing you any longer.” No lies, if only because he skirted the truth, covered it with a soft, warm blanket.

It wasn’t a lie that she was glad to see him. It was overwhelming, dizzying. Joy and relief and anger and betrayal all twisting and turning in her mind, wrapping her up so tightly she wasn’t sure which way was up, which way was out.

But Yuri was there, hand outstretched to her as he had before. A way out. Familiarity. 

“Fine.”

“…fine, what?”

She took a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll talk to Ashe. Give a number that I can text. So that… I can see you again. Maybe. _Maybe_ , Yuri, I’m not agreeing to anything yet.”

She didn’t believe herself, and judging from Yuri’s expression, he didn’t either.

He gave her the number, said his goodbyes, and walked out her door again.

\---

This time, however, it would go differently.

This time, he would come back. They would go out together, the three of them, a new dynamic being formed, a new balance being struck. She would fall in love with him again. Ashe would fall in love with him for the first time. Ashe would show Yuri who he really was, who Yuri was really protecting, and Yuri would be in love, too.

Life moved on, Yuri moved in.

They would never discuss his work, why he would leave secretly, come back tired and worn. Ashe wouldn’t confront him about it. Yuri wouldn’t bring it up.

Yuri was protecting them, Bernadetta from her past, Ashe from a potential future.

A half-truth buried in the sand.

They were naïve to think it would just wash away.

\---

She finally came out to Yuri, told him what she had learned about herself, about how she had learned she was demisexual, how she only felt attracted to someone she had bonded with emotionally.

He accepted her easily. He would move at whatever pace she wanted, however she wanted to proceed.

(She should’ve realized how damaged their bond had been.)

(She should’ve realized how her feelings had changed.)

_____________________

Bernie suspects that whatever is keeping Yuri away now is related to his work. The half-secret work she and Ashe know about, the half-lie he won’t tell them.

She worries for Ashe. She knows Yuri does, too.

He’s driven, wanting to protect Ashe. She knows, and she sees how much Yuri loves Ashe.

But still, there’s so much they don’t know about Yuri.

Is it important? Is it really important when it’s obvious that he’s protecting them, has protected her, is protecting Ashe now?

They should have talked about this, really gotten into this, tried to not ignore this, but they didn’t, and now it had festered and rotted, and she wasn’t sure they could be saved.

\---

Bernie, once again, finds herself wishing she lived alone.

(No, she doesn’t, she doesn’t even think she could be alone again, not now. Not after having lived with her boys for so long, had someone there.)

Yuri has backed off. Way off, nearly stumbling backwards down a cliff. He hasn’t pushed her, hasn’t bothered her.

Hasn’t kissed her. Has stopped touching her as frequently, as intimately.

He thinks he’s doing her a favor, she knows. He thinks this is what she wants, she reassures herself. He thinks he’s helping, she reminds herself again and again. But the forced distance is making her anxious, making her cranky.

Why is she like this?

And it’s not just the distance when he’s home. Work has called him more and more frequently, setting both Ashe and her on edge, knowing just what Yuri’s work entails.

Does Ashe know whatever merperson is involved in Yuri’s work this time? One of his friends? His siblings?

Will Yuri come back? Will he be gone forever next time he disappears?

No details pass Yuri’s tightly guarded lips, however.

He also isn’t paying as much attention to Ashe, though his fingers will find Ashe’s hair idly, his gaze will linger over Ashe’s body like a map. Ashe notices, reciprocates, apologizes to Bernie.

“No,” she says, as they are, for once, both working together at the table, Ashe handling some documents Sylvain doesn’t want to deal with. “It’s not your fault, Ashe. Yuri and I already talked about it. It’s fine.”

Ashe hums, discontent. “I don’t think you talked about the right thing.”

She stares at her book, another chapter done, another page turned. She wants to show Ashe, but he’ll be reading it over in a more official capacity soon, and he already helped her so much at the start. There’s no way she’d ask him now.

But this book isn’t the problem that she needs to be focusing on, anyway.

It’s her. She’s the problem, she’s going to ruin what they have.

(You’re not the problem, whispers a rare, kind voice in her head, one that rarely visits her and sticks around.)

“It’s just… I’m afraid,” she says.

(I’m afraid that we went back into this too broken, without enough truths, too many placations and not enough revelations.)

She can’t say that, so instead, she says, “I’m afraid that I’ll ruin this. I love both of you so much.”

Ashe smiles, “We’ll be okay. We’re not the most… average family. It’s going to take time to work through the kinks and knots.”

Bernie has frozen. “Family?”

Ashe chokes on nothing, coughing for a moment as he sputters, “Is that… is that not what we are? I would call you two my family.”

Bernie is in tears as she flings herself at him. He catches her as he always does, chuckling. “I’m really going to miss you while I’m gone. Will you two be okay by yourselves? I can always delay the trip…”

She giggles, “The only way to let them know you’re not coming is if you go and tell them yourself. Ashe, have fun with them. It’s only for a moon. Yuri and I will be okay.”

He cuddles her closer. “Of course.”

\---

Bernadetta and Yuri go with him to the beach in the middle of the night, watches as he undresses (Yuri, with leering eyes, Bernadetta, politely), and changes, his tail catching the bright moonlight. Yuri insisted they go late, to stay out of eyesight. He nearly had a come-apart when Bernie and Ashe told him how they had met, in broad daylight.

_(“You can’t let yourself been seen so easily,” Yuri had said, “It’s… it’s how most of my cases got caught.”)_

(It took a week to get Ashe to go outside in the daytime again.)

Yuri leans down for a kiss, “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?”

“I could guess by the way you can’t keep your eyes to yourself,” Ashe answers smoothly, slyly, his grin crooked and smug.

Bernie squats for her kiss, squeezing Ashe’s cheeks and pushing far too hard, popping off with a loud smack. “Should I give you a poetic compliment, too? Ashe, your tail is pretty cool and is an awesome color. Like rain clouds on a sunny day.”

For this, he blushes, full body red. “Really, I thought it was kind of boring…”

She smiles, kisses him for real with that smile. “Yuri is right, you’re beautiful. Go on, go splash in the waves, have fun.”

“Be safe,” Yuri adds with far too much weight.

Ashe’s expression flashes darkly, almost invisible in the night. “I will be. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” says Bernie.

“And I love you,” echoes Yuri.

And then, they are alone.

Yuri holds out his hand, and Bernie takes it.

They’ll be okay.

(She lets go of his hand when they’re halfway home.)

\---

(“Hey, Bernie,” he says as they walk in the night back to their apartment. “I couldn’t help but to notice that you and Ashe get along… swimmingly.”)

(“Is that a fucking joke, Yuri?”)

\---

The late afternoon sun drifts into the apartment as Bernie curls into Yuri, holding him down, even as he struggles to get her weight off him. Struggles, in the loosest meaning of the word. Really, he is just lightly jostling her as she giggles.

Fake struggling, and fake giggling. Yuri is trying to leave, Bernie is trying to keep him home. She’s doing it the only way she knows how, by being in the way.

She feels desperate to hold on to him. Like if she doesn’t, he’ll slip away into mist.

“Bernie, I love you, but I need to go,” he says, wrapping his arms under her legs and back, lifting her with him. She can feel the puff of air that helps him lift her up.

“Yuri, do you have to go, really? Really? I…don’t want to be alone.”

He smiles as he puts her down on the couch. “Work on your book? I’m surprised you haven’t been working on it already.”

“I know, I really should be, but…” She doesn’t want to. She wants to. She wants to throw it out the window. She wants to work on it until her hand can’t work anymore, until she collapses, and the work becomes her tragic, unfinished piece. Tragic, because it is terrible.

“You got so cuddly when Ashe left,” Yuri mumbles, “I’m almost unused to it.”

And if that isn’t loaded with _something_ , Bernadetta doesn’t know what it is.

“What does that mean?” she asks, all of the playfulness she felt a moment before draining away, down the sink, into the sewers to rot. She tries to maintain the tone, the gentleness, but Bernie has never been able to hide her emotions.

Yuri’s smile doesn’t go away, no. It melts, reshapes, cools, hardens. The line of his mouth is sharp, too sharp, too full of that _something_. “It’s just… I don’t know, you seem to be more open with Ashe, more free, more loving.”

“Because you’re pulling away, Yuri, and I don’t know why!” Bernie yells. “And you never tell us anything, and we don’t know what you’re doing, and if you’re okay—”

“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”

There it is. Bernadetta recalls with sharp clarity the words she had thrown at him, recalls the sting they had left on him, recall the shock that she felt with herself.

“We talked about that, I thought we were okay…?” Bernadetta whimpers, and Yuri’s wide-eyed stare, like he had done the same thing as her, had thrown the words around carelessly, met her eyes. He was blurring in front of her as her tears filled the corners, threatening to spill.

He softens, melts, his tone low and soft. “We are, we are. It’s just that…sometimes, I wonder. If I had never left, would we have met Ashe? And if we had never met Ashe, would we still be together? Would we fit together?”

She cocks her head, wanting to pretend like she doesn’t understand what he means. And for a moment, she doesn’t.

But then it hits her. Ashe is the one who coaxed them back together. Ashe is the one either of them fall to when they fight, who pushes and pulls them back together as easily as he navigates the ocean’s currents.

Bernie and Yuri fell in love first, before Ashe was ever in the picture. Before he was ever there to support them, the cheeriest of the three, the pulse of positivity, the heartbeat of their trio.

Bernie thought they were balanced, the three of them, a perfect match.

What if they’re not?

When Yuri had broken her heart, he had lost her trust. They have been trying to push themselves back together, trying to rebuild that trust. But their edges are frayed and torn and don’t fit like they had before.

They don’t connect to each other anymore.

Suddenly, it dawns on her why his touch has been bothering her, and not Ashe’s. Why she has missed his kisses, but not desired them. Why, more and more, the thought of intimacy with him has only been a happy memory.

Her bond with Yuri is deteriorating, the trust between them cold and lifeless, and she has been pushing him further and further away. He has been pulling away. And now, she isn’t sure how much is left between them, no matter how much she wants it.

No matter how much she wants to want him. She can’t.

Yuri must see what’s written on her face, must feel it, as well. His expression drops into something sad, so painfully sad, and for the first time in moons, Bernie wants to reach out, touch him, wipe it away.

“I really have to go, Bernie, but I think we should talk when I come back.”

She only nods, unable to look at him, eyes to the carpet like it may tell her what to do if she just wishes hard enough. 

She listens to his footsteps pad across the living room, cross the kitchen, his hand on the doorknob.

“I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

“I love you, too,” she whispers, not sure he can even hear it, and a few seconds later, the door closes.

\---

The door reopens with a bang far sooner than Bernie was expecting, hours later, and she nearly throws herself under the table in shock.

“Bernadetta?” It’s Yuri, and his voice is strained, tight, wound with horrible tension in that one word, ready to spring, explode. “Bernadetta!”

She’s up and moving to the door, but freezes.

Yuri is flanked with two children on either side, hiding behind him.

Their hair is silver, their eyes mint green, their faces freckled, and if they weren’t miniature clones of Ashe in those regards, she would know they were his beloved younger siblings by the imperfect transformation. The scales along their cheeks and ears, the slitted eyes, the sharp nails, sharp teeth. Bernie distantly remembers their names, Liv, the girl, and Ley, the boy.

They had been crying. Yuri looks on the verge of it himself, with panic.

“W-what?” Bernadetta stutters out.

“Ashe got taken,” Yuri says, and Bernadetta’s world falls from under her feet. She only remains standing by grabbing the table for balance. “I found his siblings running from the beach. Ashe apparently took on the poachers himself, let these two escape.” He’s biting his lip. “I had heard that there were poachers in the area, but… he apparently decided to come back early. I didn’t think…”

Bernadetta catches herself, stops the fall. Not now, not now, she tells herself. “We’re going to get him.”

“ _I’m_ going to get him. _You_ are staying here and watching them,” Yuri says.

Bernie’s blood boils.

“Our boyfriend is in danger, and I know you’re used to sweeping in, saving the day, but not this time, not alone!” she shouts. “I love him just as much as you do. We’re going together. That is what we do in a relationship, we go save our merman boyfriend together!”

Yuri blinks at her. “Can you even use a weapon?”

Bernadetta pauses, thinks. No, she very well can’t, and he knows that.

Dammit.

She’s not staying behind. She’s not going to let these assholes touch her Ashe, her Yuri. She is going to protect them, like they’ve protected her.

It hits her then, as the ink over the memory is scratched away. What she could do before, what she probably can still do now that she’s more skilled. If she tries.

She goes into the living room, rummages through her art supplies until she finds it.

Yuri’s eyes widen when she proudly shows him her weapon of choice.

“A marker?” She can see the moment it dawns on him, what she plans to do, in his shocked expression. “You’re okay with that?”

“Yes,” she says, “if it’s to protect you and him.” She uncaps it, takes a whiff, “Plus, it’s licorice scented. They’ll never know what hit them.”

They end up leaving the twins with Dedue, downstairs, who had been asleep, only leaving him with the cryptic warning that they are Ashe’s siblings and to watch for the teeth.

Bernie follows Yuri out into the street, into the late night.

\---

Their feet pound on the pavement as they chase the moon, lowering and lowering as morning approaches and night comes to an end, hot on the trail of the ones who have taken Ashe. Bernie is not built for this, Bernie is struggling to keep up, but she won’t back down, won’t let Yuri change his mind about bringing her—

A gust of wind at her back, under her feet, pushes her forward, closer to Yuri. He grabs her hand, pulls her along. The pull of his hand and the push of her magic propels her on. The thought of Ashe keeps her driven.

The city street isn’t full of people at this time of night, and they only get a few glares as they push past bodies. She wonders, briefly, if any of these people could be like the ones who took him, if they had been among them all this time, waiting, watching for the perfect opportunity to snatch Ashe.

She swallows and pulls her mind back from that, pushing away the what ifs, focusing on the reality. She trades those fears for a new one. She thinks of how alone and scared he must be, if he’s in pain—

If he’s been hurt, she’s going to kill someone.

\---

They make it to the beach, where Ashe was taken, according to his siblings. Their feet are loud against the boardwalk, but the waves are louder as they pull and crash against the shore.

When they hit the sand, all Bernie can hear is the sound of their exhausted, ragged breathing.

“They can’t have gone far, not yet,” Yuri whispers frantically. Bernie isn’t sure if it’s because he knows they couldn’t have, or he hopes they haven’t. “They’ll want to stay close to a potential group. They’ll try and find the rest of Ashe’s home, his family. They probably hope his siblings will come back. So, they’ll keep him here, as bait.” Yuri has never rambled so much, and Bernie lays a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

He gasps sharply but lets out a slow breath, closing his eyes, the tension draining into focus. Bernie takes away her hand as sigils form around Yuri, the magic building in the air. Yuri cups his hand, and in it appears a ball of swirling wind magic, and he whispers. Light, quiet, soft. The wind takes on a hue of green, like kelp, like the seawater, the color of mint. It takes off from his hand, naturally, dancing through air and space.

They run after it, and it teases them, spinning and spinning in circles until it takes them to the edge of the beach, where the grass begins, the sand ends, a very familiar stretch that Bernie had found herself in two years ago.

The rock she had sat on when she waited for Ashe, where they confessed, had their first kiss, is where the ball of wind lands.

Yuri huffs, spinning, looking for something, moves along the grass with practiced ease. Around the rock, behind the rock. There’s nothing special about it.

But the ball of air hovers over it, calling them to it, telling them that Ashe is here. 

He kicks the rock, and the resounding metal clang is not what either of them were expecting.

(Okay, maybe she should have noticed that the rock was fake back then, but she had been _very_ nervous.)

They exchange looks, and Yuri calls his wind. Bernie scurries away, taking cover. A tornado, a hurricane, a typhoon blows around him, scattering the sand, pulling up grass.

The rock moves, not as heavy as it appeared, hollowed on the inside, just enough to uncover a metal door laid into the ground. Yuri tries the door, but of course, it’s locked. He kicks at it, pulls at it, but nothing moves it.

“Bernie, I’m going to destroy this stupid door,” he grumbles.

“With wind?! You’ll blow us away before you ever get it to budge.” Them, and half the beach probably.

“No, I… listen. We’ll talk about this later,” he says as new magical sigils swirl around his hands, different than usual, casting a dark glow. He flicks his fingers, and a dark miasma leaves his fingertips, coating the door. It sinks through, and for a moment, nothing happens.

Then, the door begins to melt from the center outwards, the dark goo eating through the metal like a shark. The ruined steel drips down onto a staircase and dissolves into nothingness, leaving only scorch marks.

Bernie’s mind has shut down. She knows what magic that was, and though she has never used it, she had been exposed to it.

She knows dark magic when she sees it. Afterall, she had been meant to learn it, herself.

She knows how dangerous and damaging it is, both to caster and target.

She knows how one obtains it, how one becomes able to _use_ dark magic.

Why, then, is her partner flicking it like water off his fingers?

(All this time, has he been _using_ Ashe without them even noticing?)

She closes that line of thought immediately. Yuri didn’t betray him. Yuri didn’t betray her. He promised he would protect them. He _loves_ them. No matter what doubts, what uncertainties she holds, she knows that Yuri loves her and Ashe, and she and Ashe love Yuri.

The voice that is not her own whispers to her. _Wrong, wrong, wrong._ The real betrayal.

Bernadetta swallows those thoughts. She can’t believe them, not right now. Later, later. They’ll talk later, when they’ve rescued their lover.

(If Yuri really even loves them, that is.)

( _Shut-up, you stupid voice, I’m so sick of hearing you all the time_ , she tells it.)

(It doesn’t answer.)

Bernadetta stares and stares and stares, trying to discern an answer from Yuri’s grimace, from how he grips his wrist as the palm of his hand smolders and steams.

“Door’s open. Let’s go,” Yuri says, almost in a hiss, ignoring the look, pulling Bernie along with him through the dark doorway. She snatches her hand from his and tries to ignore the hurt in his eyes.

After a few initial steps, there is a wide platform that acts as a pause before a simple stone staircase that seems to spiral infinitely into the darkness, down and down and down. Bernie can’t see how deep into the abyss they drop, no matter how far over the railing she leans to look. She squeaks when Yuri grabs her hood and gently tugs her back. “Don’t fall, love.”

She pouts at him, swatting away his hand. “I’m fine, Yuri.”

The stairs feel even more endless than they looked before, winding down into the murky gloom, dragging them into what is more than likely now an ambush. If whoever is here wasn’t aware of their entrance, if they didn’t hear Yuri’s wind, the storm, the melting of the door, their voices, they definitely can hear their feet hitting the rock. If anything, the echoing makes it sound like there is more to their small party than there is. Hopefully, that’ll work to their advantage.

Or, Bernie thinks, they’ll be more than ready when the two of them arrive, and they’ll all die. Her, Yuri, and Ashe. Together, at least.

No, Ashe won’t die. He’ll be alone.

She shakes her head of that thought.

It feels like hours have passed before they finally reach ground again. When Bernie looks back up, she sees the glimmer of light from the moon over the beach. Ridiculous, she thinks, that they’ll have to climb all those steps again when they leave. If they leave.

( _Stop it._ )

Another door is in front of them, and Yuri doesn’t hesitate to blast it open with a strong gust of wind. It doesn’t matter that he uses a weaker spell; the door swings wide open on screeching hinges, bangs against the wall behind it.

They spill into the main room, filled with a strange, artificial light that hurts Bernie’s eyes until they adjust. Weapons are readied, Yuri with wind curling around him, lifting his clothes and hair, and Bernie with her licorice scented felt-tip marker, holding it like a dagger in her tight grip.

The room is like a dungeon, stone and chilly, lit with a mix of fake light and torch. It’s a long room, lined with tapestries bearing a symbol Bernie doesn’t recognize, bookshelves filled with journals, several long tables lined by strange metal tools. She only barely casts her eyes around the room as she quickly locates Ashe.

Ashe is in his mer-form, floating in a closed tank at the very edge of the long room. He’s pushing himself against the side of the tank, watching them with his cat-like eyes, wide with surprise. Bernie is so overwhelmed with relief at seeing him that she almost doesn’t register that he’s banging against the glass, pointing behind them, shouting something that is muffled by the water and glass. 

Yuri pulls her out of the way as a dark blob is flung at them, hissing and spitting where it landed on the floor.

Dark magic. Blood magic. She looks to Yuri. He’s grimacing, glaring, eyes wide and panicked and furious all at once.

The poachers, she assumes, are stepping in from the shadows, blocking them from the exit. She and Yuri had been idiots, storming in like an army while they are definitely alone, definitely by themselves, but Yuri’s face has settled into a cold rage. The poachers had been waiting for them, no doubt. They hold various weapons, knives and clubs, and are dressed in leathers and protective clothing.

Only five in total, but Yuri and Bernie are still outnumbered. Bernie glances behind her to Ashe, who is thrashing and banging helplessly against his prison. If she could get to him…

The poachers are draped in leather cloaks that are emblazoned in white stitching, a rune she still doesn’t recognize—

She does. She looks to the walls, see it on the tapestry. The door when they entered.

Bernie swallows hard. They look like normal people, like the people she saw on the street earlier, like anyone she’s seen in the park, at the store, around the city. Anyone who could have been watching her, watching her fall in love with Ashe because they were _right here._ Bile threatens to come up, churning in her stomach.

The last, though, is different. An older man, but he doesn’t look like anyone she’s ever seen before. White hair, ashen skin. White eyes without pupils. He has no weapon.

He speaks. “Ah, Yuri, we are glad to see you.” A smirk twists his mouth. “Have you come to rejoin us? We could really use your help with this one. He’s feral. I’m sure you know how to handle him.”

“I have no connection with you anymore,” Yuri answers. “Ashe has nothing to do with you, either.”

The man laughs. “Mer-blood is powerful. And it’s even better that he belongs to _you_. He’s perfect recompence for your defection.”

Defection? Bernie glances at Yuri, trying to picture him in these robes, trying to picture him with these horrible smirks, smug, tries to imagine him harming someone innocent.

And despite the fact that Yuri knows these people, that he has dark magic which is damning enough, she can’t picture Yuri with them. She can’t reconcile her Yuri with this image.

Bernie takes a step back but doesn’t tear her glare from the man. “He doesn’t _belong_ to anyone! He’s not recompence!” She takes another step back, towards Ashe.

Yuri lets his spell go, swirling around him, flying forward towards the poachers, pushing them back against the wall. He starts to prepare another spell, the magic whirling and whirling around him, but the poachers recover faster than he can prepare.

The four with physical weapons lunge at them, and it’s all Yuri can do to knock them weakly away.

They’re put on the defensive, Yuri trying to keep Bernie from harm and fight back at the same time. If she could just get close without getting stabbed—

A glob of dark miasma is thrown at them, splitting her from Yuri as she back pedals far away. She’s now too far from Yuri to be of any help to him, but she could even the playing field a bit. She spins to face Ashe, and he looks overjoyed for a moment before his face falls, looking over her shoulder.

One of the poachers has gotten around Yuri and is coming for her.

She feels herself freeze, eyes fixated on the dagger he holds, sharp point perfect for rending Bernie skin from Bernie body. She’s an idiot, actually an idiot, and she’s going to get all three of them killed.

She could have at least grabbed a kitchen knife, but no, she only took a marker—

Ashe bangs on the glass behind her, snapping her out of it.

She will protect her loves, dammit!

With a scream, she sprints at the man, marker uncapped and pointed ahead like a knife. He stops, stunned for a moment with the sudden noise, the girl throwing herself at him. _She_ doesn’t stop— with a yell, she leaps, throwing herself on him with arms swinging, knocking him in his stupid face. She is a blur of limbs and panic, overwhelming him with her frantic flailing.

He might be covered in leathers, hardly any skin exposed, but his face is vulnerable and exposed.

For a second, she remembers her childhood. She remembers her father, looming over her as she impressed nightmare after nightmare into Yuri. Directing her life, taking away her freedom, ruining her magic. Ruining her.

She remembers how easily he fell when she finally fought back.

She hasn’t had to do this in years, hasn’t taken mer-blood, but if there’s anything she thinks she can do well, it’s cast her enchantments.

Because damn her, she is _good_ at it, she has to be if she’s going to save Ashe.

(The voice says nothing.)

She swipes her mighty felt-tip across his exposed skin with her left hand, leaving a long black line that stretches from his forehead to chin, and with her right, she hastily, clumsily, calls her enchantment magic. She slaps him across the face with it, the smack of her hand on his cheek a loud pop that rings in her ears. The line glows, coming to life with the nightmare she has concocted for him, with all the feeling and realness she could muster. It works, as he falls to his knees with a scream before passing out.

Ashe bangs on the glass, getting her attention. He points to a lever on the wall, just beside his tank. She scrambles over and tugs it down, opening up the top of the tank. Ashe flings his arms over the edge, his sharp nails clicking against the surface.

He flashes Bernie a wicked grin, all sharp canines, his eyes dark and his expression twisted by anger.

“Give me that, Bernie.” In that moment, looking at his eyes, cold and frosted over, Bernie remembers the stories, remembers when Ashe joked with her on the beach when they met. “He laid a hand on Liv.”

Bernie hesitates, blinking at Ashe before removing the man’s cloak and trousers. They don’t have time as Yuri holds off the rest of the poachers, but it’s now three against one, as one of his opponents has fallen, and he can’t last forever. She grabs the man under the shoulders and lifts him up part way to Ashe’s eager arms.

Bernie turns as soon as Ashe has him. She can’t hear anything except thrashing in the water, and she tries to not picture it, of Ashe tearing out his throat, the blood in the water, the body floating lifelessly. She doesn’t want a mental image that will surely haunt her, another side of her partners that she will have to reconcile later, after they get out of here.

She’s doing a poor job of not picturing it.

It is easier for now to push it down and away.

Yuri is holding his own, but barely. He’s on the defensive, trying to stop the poachers from breaking past him as he protects Bernie and Ashe. He’s relying on wind, though Bernie knows that dark magic lurks beneath his skin. Knows he could be flinging it, causing serious damage, but he doesn’t.

The relief is cool on her worries.

Ashe drops down to the floor beside her on human legs, the scales slowly disappearing, but not quite all the way. Bernie hands him the cloak and trousers, and he shoves them on hastily.

From the corner of her eye, she can see the body, and she chooses to ignore it.

“Are you okay?” she asks him.

He flashes her a despairing grin of sharp teeth. The blood is still flecked in them. His eyes are drooped, dark bags under them. Normally his skin is pale, but now it takes on a sickly hue. They’ve already taken from him, it seems, and no small amount.

“No. But I’m well enough to fight. Com’on,” he says, racing towards Yuri, Bernie just behind him.

Ashe stops next to Yuri, but Bernie has already had enough of this.

She flies by her partners, screeching incoherently, charging at the poachers. They aren’t ready for her when she throws herself onto the closest person, a woman who drops her weapon. She swipes away the hood of her cloak, finding exposed skin on her neck, and swipes the marker across it. Bernie shoves her fingers, pushing into her skin, leaving another dream, and she falls to the ground like the first man, knocked out into a terrible dream.

Two left. Yuri throws a blast of wind, knocking them away from each other. The non-magical poacher is pushed towards Bernie, leaving the dark mage to him.

Ashe joins her to face the poacher down. He growls, an unhuman sound, and Bernie adjusts her grip on the magic marker, ready to slash, but Ashe doesn’t waste another moment. He lunges at the poacher, claws out, and the poacher swings their spiked club at the same time. The claws cut through their throat as Ashe is struck across the chest with the club.

Both fall to the floor. Ashe manages to get to his knees, but the poacher does not move again.

Bernie moves to Ashe’s side, but he shakes his head. “I’m fine, go to Yuri!” She squeezes his shoulder and watches the battle from where she is crouched next to Ashe, trying to find an opening, waiting for her chance.

Yuri and the mage are equally matched. Yuri is still on the defensive, still trying to stop the mage from turning his attention to Ashe and Bernie, but he is unable to fight back. The mage is strong.

One boyfriend is hurt, the other being pushed back. The mage wields dark magic like an extension of himself, dancing from his fingertips, pushing against Yuri’s wind, pushing Yuri back.

Dark magic, Bernie focuses on. Blood magic.

He’s using Ashe’s blood.

Bernie is tired of waiting.

It shouldn’t work a third time, it really shouldn’t, but Bernie tries anyway. She runs with a loud yell at the man, leaping at him.

And, of course, Bernie knew, Bernie knew she was useless, that it’s a bad plan, that she isn’t made for this.

This time, the mage catches her, twists her around to act as a shield between him and Yuri. Ashe cries out. Yuri growls, his magic slowing. Bernie kicks at the mage, but his hold on her is tight, her arms pressed down, useless. Still, she won’t stop struggling, wriggling in his hold. She will not let go of her marker.

“Let her go!” Yuri yells, the anger in his voice palpable, fury bleeding though. Ashe, right beside him, glares with a gleaming intensity.

“I’m leaving, and she’s coming with me. You owe me this one, anyway—”

Excuse him?

Bernie is not a prize. Bernie is not an object to be used, to be held as collateral, to be groomed and used for dark magic.

(That’s right you’re not!)

( _Thank you, for once_.)

Her father already tried once. And he failed. No one was going to do this to her again.

Bernie just wants to go home.

Cuddle her loves.

And Finish. Her. Stupid. Book.

“No!” she screams, interrupting him, and she stomps as hard as she can on his toes.

He doesn’t let her go, the grip too tight, but he does flinch just enough for her to get her marker hand free, and she swings backwards, connecting with his face. She drops the marker, and with the same hand pulls back—

And punches him square in the nose.

The ink on his skin glows.

She weaves the nastiest dreams, the goal of inflicting the maximum pain embedded in the ink. She imagines his magic melting him outside in, a burning, inescapable pain. She heaves all of her anger into the enchantment. Her fury for them taking Ashe, hurting him. For whatever they did to Yuri, for however they have tried to take _her_ family and hurt them and tear them apart.

The mage’s grip fails, and she falls out of his arms, scrambling away from him. He doesn’t fall into a violently loud slumber like the others did, but he does stumble to the ground, on his knees, his gaze distant.

His mouth twitches, his eyes pulled open like hooks are gripping them, forcing him to watch whatever vision Bernie has given him. His ashen skin pales further and further.

He’s completely silent. Yuri draws his dagger and comes closer.

“Goodnight, damn you,” he says, pushing the knife to the man’s neck, a thin red line already forming. Bernie turns to help Ashe who, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, is wavering as he tries to get to his feet. As she gets an arm under him, she hears the slump of the body to the ground. Yuri wipes off the knife as he joins them, putting it away in its holster.

“We should get you checked out,” Yuri says, but Ashe’s eyes widen, violently shaking his head.

“No. No doctor. No needles. No tests. No—” he starts, but Bernie pulls him closer, wrapping him tightly in her arms. The water on his wet skin has soaked through his clothes, and he’s shivering in her hold. 

Yuri runs his fingers through Ashe’s wet hair. “Okay. Then we’ll go home.”

\----

Yuri sends Bernie and Ashe back up top. The smell of fire and smoke follow Yuri when he joins them, dancing in his trail.

They cover the entrance once again, returning to normal, like nothing ever happened. 

\----

When they arrive back home, the first order of business is to get Ashe into a warm bath. Yuri stays with him as Bernie goes to check on Ashe’s siblings and Dedue. They’re all okay, she reassures them, Ashe is okay, but tired. Dedue, bless him, agrees to watch the little ones for a little longer while Ashe recovers overnight. His girlfriend, Mercedes, is a healer, he says. She’s trustworthy and can look over Ashe if they want. Bernie will see how Ashe feels, but she hopes he’ll accept Mercedes’s help.

When she returns to the apartment, Yuri is sitting at the kitchen table, warm cup of tea in his hands, another sitting across from him in Bernie’s favorite mug, purple, with little bears. One he bought for her, actually, a silly little no reason gift. The light scent of chamomile fills the room. He smiles weakly at her as she sits across from him, the smile not quite touching his eyes full of worry. It’s not a look she sees often on Yuri, and it twists her stomach, wrenches her heart.

Bernie bites her cheek. “You’re going to tell me and Ashe the whole story when he’s better, okay?”

“Right.”

An awkward silence has fallen over the two of them again. It’s difficult for her to believe that their last argument was only a morning ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed in between then and now.

“Maybe we should have another painful conversation as a warm-up,” she mumbles. “While we have a chance.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He reaches out a hand, leaves it on the table between them, a peace offering. She doesn’t take it yet, but he leaves it, waiting for her. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, or pushed you, or pushed you away, or gotten upset. I should’ve… I should’ve come back sooner.” Whether he means all those years ago, or today, or even both, Bernie isn’t sure.

Bernie hums, “You can get upset, Yuri. But I am too.” She taps her fingers against the mug to fill the silent pause as she thinks. “And I’m afraid.”

“Of what, though I suspect I know.”

“I think we ignored our problems for too long. I think we let them get in, rot our relationship from the inside out. Or… I did. I was so relieved to see you again, I just wanted to run away from the problems, ignore them.” Just like she always does, she reminds herself.

Yuri shakes his head, “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.” He groans, runs his hand along his face in an anxious gesture that is very unlike-him, more like her or Ashe. “I just. I guess I got jealous, or lonely, or something else stupid. But I was wrong.”

Bernie cocks her head. She understands, she thinks, but she wants to know from Yuri’s perspective what has been happening between them. Maybe she hasn’t been as perceptive as she thought. “Tell me. Tell me everything you’re thinking and feeling Yuri, for once.” Because if she flees from her problems, hoping to run far and fast enough that they will never catch her, Yuri hides them, buries them so deeply no one will find them.

He looks at her, looks at the book on the coffee table. He chuckles, bitterly and harshly, drops his head in shame, and sighs.

“I’m jealous over that book first, which is sad, and I was jealous over Ashe, which is unhealthy. You’ve put so much time in that book— and I’m proud of you, I promise— but… I don’t know.” He looks at her, and his eyes are so tired. “We just kind of fell into this relationship. I expected everything to just continue from where we left it, that night, despite how much we both have changed, despite our boyfriend.”

He’s not entirely wrong, nor is he alone. Bernie thinks she expected the same, for the bond between her and Yuri to have remained unchanged once she uncovered it again. They didn’t discuss their preferences, their balance, just expected it to all fall into place simply because they were in love and that’s what love does, fixes everything, wipes everything clean.

They’re both idiots, in that regard.

Bernadetta finally reaches for his hand, takes it, grips it tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how you were feeling. I need time and space to do my work, but I shouldn’t make my entire life my work. You and Ashe are important, too. I’m sorry I haven’t paid enough attention to you.”

“I didn’t tell you,” he says, squeezing her hand back. “I should have said something instead of just assuming.” He pauses, bites his lip. “And, while we’re here, I might as well say this, too. I love physical affection. It’s… what you could say my love language is, I suppose. And I don’t only mean sex. I like touches from you and Ashe. It’s a tangible reminder that I’m loved, but… it feels like you prefer Ashe.”

There it is. She should have known this would come up again. She squeezes his hand. “When you disappeared, my heart was broken, Yuri. It’s going to take time to build that trust, our bond back. And you know that’s how I feel attraction.”

“I know. I regret how long it took, and I regret how much you were hurt. But I can’t regret my actions, not when ultimately, they kept you safe.”

She huffs. “I would have rather you stayed here to keep me safe.”

“I can’t change it now,” he says, “but I can promise to not let it happen again.”

Her smile comes easy, his hand warm in hers doesn’t feel like a weight. It feels lighter, the promise tickling against her skin. “And we’ll work on us, together. Build ourselves back up. I don’t want to lose you.”

“It’s a problem with me, not you.”

She shakes her head. “You have to understand, Yuri. You know I don’t always think about physical stuff. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it; it just doesn’t come to mind always.”

“I do. I know. And I really don’t mean _just_ sex.”

She bites her cheek. If it’s simple affections he wants, that, she can do. “Well, lucky for you, Bernie loves Yuri-cuddles.” She smiles. “And I don’t prefer Ashe,” she says, going back to what he said earlier. “Not in terms of love. But I do feel more comfortable with him physically.”

Yuri flushes, something that happens so rarely, Bernadetta is tempted to stop this conversation just to take a picture. “Sometimes, I feel like the outsider. I’m trying to catch up to your level.”

“Like I said, I operate on trust. And, starting with this, and with the full story of what the hell happened tonight, we’re going to work on that. I’m not going to make any promises about my attraction to you, about if I’ll want you like I did before, but I do promise that I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

His smile is warm and radiant, and she wants to melt into a puddle. “I love you, too. I don’t need sex for that. Just as long as you’re in my life, that’s all I need. I’m sorry for being a brat about it.” And he is, he really has been a brat about it. She knows she probably has the right to be angry, to not forgive him, but… he is sincerely apologetic. And knowing Yuri, once he sees a problem, he’s not going to stop until he fixes it, even if, _especially if_ , he is the one causing it. She trusts him to work on it, and she’ll support him, and meet him halfway.

“Yeah, me too,” she says with a smirk. “But if you ever pull this crap again, I’m not going to be happy. Right?”

“Understood,” Yuri says, granting her a small smile. A comfortable silence falls over them for the first time in what feels like months. Maybe even since the first time since he came back into her life. His hand is warm against hers as he traces along with his thumb.

“Okay. That’s enough of this for now,” she says, standing up, moving her chair back and pulling him along with her to the couch. “We are going to cuddle until Ashe is finished bathing, and I will not take no for an answer. You owe me.”

She scoots closer, lays her head against his chest, and closes her eyes.

He holds her close, whispers into her hair, “Are you okay with this? Before knowing what I’ve done? What if you change your mind?”

“I guess we’ll find out how doomed this is soon enough.”

She isn’t sure how long they lie like that, Bernadetta warm against Yuri, his fingers lightly running through her hair, before she feels a pressure on her, a weight draping itself along her other side. Ashe breathes deeply as he settles beside her, leaning on her, his arms wrapped around her. And just for a moment, it’s calm. Peaceful. They’re all safe and together. She could fall asleep right now between them.

A beat passes as she soaks in her loves, calm and warm between them, before everything that has happened hits her, and she ruins it by jolting with a yelp. “Ashe! How are you feeling? Are you okay?” She starts poking at his cheeks. She sits up, shuffling so that Ashe can only keep one arm around her.

Yuri moves to his other side, effectively shifting them, putting Ashe in between them. Bernie twists in his arm, and Yuri drapes an arm over Ashe’s shoulder, taking Ashe’s free hand into his own.

“I’m woozy, honestly.” His head lolls, connecting with Yuri’s gently, where he leaves it. Bernadetta gently moves his loose, wet hair from his eyes. “Where’s Liv and Ley?”

Bernadetta hums. “They’re staying with Dedue for now. We figured you wouldn’t be up for dealing with them quite yet, and they seem to be having a good time.”

“I really hope they don’t eat him. Dedue’s nice,” Ashe mumbles against Yuri’s cheek.

Bernadetta shifts, meeting Yuri’s wide-eyed expression of alarm with her own. “Eat him? Is that, was that a possibility?”

Ashe shrugs.

Well, Dedue seemed fine when she checked on him earlier. So maybe he has it under control.

Hopefully.

“Speaking of eating, more importantly,” Ashe mumbles, “I’m starving. Can we eat before we talk?”

Yuri shifts to get up. “I got it. You two stay here.” He pushes Ashe onto Bernadetta, where she tucks him under her chin, wraps her arms around him. Ashe seems to doze off almost immediately. Yuri starts to move away, to the kitchen.

“Wait,” says Bernie. “Come here?”

He leans forward, a question on his face, and she grabs him by the shirt, pulls him in quicker towards her. She kisses him firmly, relaxing into it as he answers, their lips moving together in perfect rhythm. She can feel the smile on his lips as he pulls away, feel it on her forehead when he kisses her softly.

It’s not like it was before, and maybe it will never be again. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe some things just need to be imperfect. Maybe it’s striving to fix the imperfections that will make them stronger.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and she hums.

\---

Yuri makes them a simple, comforting meal, grilling some fish in a teriyaki sauce in their broiler, fluffing up white rice in their rice cooker, leaving him able to focus his attention on some pan fried green vegetables, and some boiled kabocha squash. The smell of the homecooked meal is almost enough to wipe away the anxiety of the night, return things back to a normal day. Simple and quick and definitely what Ashe needs right now.

Yuri serves them each plates of food, Ashe’s portion doubling each of their own. Ashe looks guilty even as he picks up his chopsticks, starts shoveling food in.

Yuri and Bernadetta both watch him with looks equally full of relief and worry as he eats too quickly, washing down food with water more than chewing it.

He notices them watching, reddens, and slows down. “Sorry.”

“You know, Ashe,” Yuri starts, “It might be easier to chew faster if you use your sharp teeth.”

“Not vegetables,” Ashe says. “besides, isn’t it better if I look more human from now on? It might stop this from ever happening again.”

Yuri and Bernadetta exchange a shocked look. Yuri is the one to speak up. “Uh, Ashe, this wasn’t at all your fault. It was mine.”

Ashe shakes his head. “There’s a reason we stay away from the surface, and Lonato warned me even as he got me ready to leave, but—”

“No, Ashe. This is totally my fault.”

Bernadetta sits up straighter at the sudden shift in mood.

“I really doubt that, Yuri. You’re not the one who took him,” Bernadetta says. “You can’t blame yourself for everything.” Pot to kettle.

Yuri groans. “This, I think I can. I’m at least responsible for them being here, and, at the very least, for Ashe becoming a target.”

“Well,” Ashe says, “We’re never going to know unless you tell us.”

Yuri groans. “Let’s finish eating first. Give me a second to think.”

They do, and Yuri cleans up the table, dumping all the dinnerware into the sink with a clatter before sitting back down.

Ashe and Bernadetta watch him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

When he finally does, his voice is low and gravely. A near mumble.

“You see, when I was younger and stupider than I am now, I joined a group of poachers. My mom was sick, and we had no money. So, I thought, hey, I get a gig with these guys, maybe I can keep us floating.” He runs a finger along the table, tracing the patterns in the wood. “I got the dark magic from them, from testing the mer-blood when I was a kid. The injections don’t wear off, it seems. My first assigned mission was being sent off to you, to steal the blood your father was buying to give to you, maybe steal you, if I could,” he says, looking at Bernie. “Your father found out.”

“So that’s how you knew what he was doing to me,” she says. “Wait, you were trying to Bernie-nap me?”

He flushes. “Yes. Until he caught me,” Yuri continues. “He left me to die. But I didn’t. I was rescued, taken in by another underground group that works to stop the poaching. They’re the ones who gave me the contract work, initially. They’re called ABYSS, and they have a web of networks all over Fódlan.”

Ashe blinks at him. “Are you trying to tell us that you’re a fucking spy, Yuri?”

Bernie, who has never heard a swear fall from Ashe’s mouth, nearly falls out of her chair spinning to stare in awe. She gulps, trying to swallow down the rising panic. “Our partner is a spy. He’s a member of a spy network. A spy web. He’s itsy-bitsy Yuri on a spy-der web.” She has to slam a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling hysterically.

She’s handling this well. Everything is okay. Ashe pats her head.

Yuri flushes, “Not in any official, governmental capacity. Think. Vigilante. And… uh, not just a member anymore…” He trails off, alerting both Bernie and Ashe to Something Not Good.

“What does that mean, Yuri,” Ashe says more than asks, tiredness weighing down his voice, the exhaustion from both this night and this conversation heavy in his tone.

“Well. I’m, what you might call, and you don’t have to call me this, but quite a few people do—”

“Sothis above, Yuri.”

“I’m kind of the boss, now, just recently in fact. Isn’t that great! All the benefits, higher pay, maybe we can actually buy a TV—"

“That doesn’t make it better, Yuri!” Bernadetta screeches.

Yuri shrugs. “It is what it is. I don’t mind what you call it. It’s how I can protect you. Protect others who are weak and can’t defend themselves. It was from ABYSS that I learned wind magic. I thought I could just blow away the rot of dark magic. It does something to you, it changes something fundamental in you.” When his eyes met Bernie’s, they were drowning in regret. “I couldn’t stop what he did, but I’m so, so thankful it’s not permanent for you.”

“Oh,” says Ashe. “So, they took me because—”

“They were trying to get back at Yuri?” Bernadetta finishes. She slams her hands down onto the table, the loud noise startling the other two. “What the hell!”

“Not only that,” Yuri says, “But mer-blood is very, very potent. Dark magic is no joke, and yet it gets sold to unprepared people, who hurt themselves and others with it.” He looks at Bernie, meeting her eyes. “Merpeople get taken and… harvested for it. Your blood is valuable. You guys aren’t that easy to catch, either.”

Ashe slumps in his chair. “And they nearly got three of us. If they had gotten Liv and Ley, as well…”

“It would’ve been bad,” he says. “But for now, they’re gone. I’ll alert my people, have more eyes in the area for a while, at least.” 

“So, what now? Are there more of them?” 

Yuri’s exasperated sigh is exhausted, full of years of holding this in, the stress and the worry. “Yes, they’ll never stop, it seems some days.”

Bernadetta picks at her nails. “So what? Should we run?”

Yuri shakes his head. “No. I’m not running. We’ll have support here from ABYSS. And… I’m never going to let them near either of you again.” He says in a low, growling voice before softening again, speaking in a whisper. “Even if… you decide you don’t want me here anymore.”

Bernie and Ashe look at each other. She thinks they’re thinking the same thing, if the softness in Ashe’s eyes are anything to go by, the small smile tugging at his lips giving him away. She and Ashe have been together long enough that they can communicate like this, easily with nothing but looks.

She hopes they’ll be able to do that with Yuri, as well.

“We do. We want you here. But, heck, Yuri,” Bernadetta says sagging in mild relief, “Tell a girl if you’re involved in a deep-rooted conspiracy before you sleep with her.” He flushes (this is, in Bernie’s opinion, almost worth it all), and he nods his agreement.

“You’re right,” he says, with a smirk. “I’ll let you know next time.”

“There shouldn’t _be_ a next time, Yuri—"

Ashe hums, looking away from them as he bites his lips. “Yuri, if our blood is so valuable… do you think they would kill a merman they captured?” Ashe asks, whispers, shifting the mood back again. Bernadetta reaches for him, runs her fingers along his arm.

“No, I don’t think they would, not on purpose. If you’re asking for your brother, Ashe, I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Yuri says. “Since I took over, I’ve started a search, but there’s nothing, yet.”

A silence falls over them before Ashe stands, moving to wrap his arms around Yuri, more falling on him than hugging. He kisses the top of Yuri’s head.

“I’m going to go check on my siblings,” he says, not moving to the door. If anything, he leans more weight onto Yuri.

“You know Ashe, I don’t think you are,” answers Yuri with a grin. He stands, awkward and with no small amount of effort. “They’re fine. They’ll be fine for tonight. Let’s go to bed.”

\---

Bernie lays in bed, beside Ashe, curled over and into him, holding him tightly like he might be taken again in the night if she doesn’t. Yuri is on his other side, mirroring Bernadetta’s grip on Ashe. Ashe is going to have to dig himself out of their hold if he needs to get up at any point in the night, but judging how deeply asleep he is, how gentle and even his breathing is, how little he moves, he isn’t going anywhere.

He let Bernie doodle on him some, let her enchant him before trying to sleep. Hopefully the pleasant visions have followed him into his dreams. She tried focusing on when they first met, tried weaving him a fantastical story. His breathing is so soft, and she realizes she hasn’t done this in a while. Hasn’t just listened to them, existed with them.

She has missed this and hadn’t even realized it.

She could have lost it forever.

Could she have stopped them from taking Ashe? Probably not, and she knows deep down it wasn’t her fault. The fault lies with the ones who did it. But—

“Bernie-bear,” whispers Yuri, soft and low, melding into the darkness, “Sleep. We have a lot ahead of us.” His hand reaches over Ashe, and Bernie takes it. Solid, warm, guiding her gently down, down into sleep.

“Yeah,” she answers in a whisper as her eyes close, her breath evens, “We do.”

This, she thinks as sleep takes her, is only the rough draft of their relationship. There’s still more to work on, more to perfect. 

Bernie will revise and polish it until it shines. Ashe will buffer it against the waves, build it up again when it falters. Yuri will shelter it from the storm, protect it with his life.

There will be rough waters to navigate, rough winds that buffer them.

But, the three of them together, this strange trio, will find their balance. They will support each other, help each other up. They’ll work together to be together.

And that, she thinks, is what matters.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear from you!!! I respond to every comment.  
> If you read this and stuck with it to the end, THANK YOU SO MUCH 
> 
> [Find me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/JaybirdSpec)
> 
> I was so nervous to post this, but I have NEVER had as much fun writing a fic as I have this one (and another that'll be going up soon!)  
> I really hope you enjoyed it.  
> And, well...  
> If you like, I have a bonus episode of Dedue watching the mer-children. It was meant to go here, but uh. It wouldn't fit.


	2. Episode Dedue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time Dedue babysat the mer-children.

“Dedue, Ashe got mer-napped!” Bernie cries out as soon as the door opens, shoving two small bodies at him. Children? The children are completely unafraid of him and slip around Dedue, huddled together behind him like he’s a shelter. “Please watch Ashe’s siblings— and for the love of Sothis don’t—!” She can’t finish her warning as Yuri is already dragging her away. Don’t what? The door closes, and he is left alone with two smaller, just slightly imperfect clones of Ashe, staring up at him with wide, unabashed eyes.

Ashe’s… siblings? Then that means…

Dedue has been left alone with the tiny mer-children so unexpectedly, he has no idea what to do now. He’s still trying to process the past five minutes, which is going slowly as his eyes are still weighed down by exhaustion. The crushing worry is slow to seep in, but he knows it’s coming. He hadn’t even known, until fairly recently, that Ashe is a merperson, and had known even less what kind of danger that put Ashe in. Dedue would have offered to go help. But, he supposes, this is helping in its own way.

The twins stare at him, clear green eyes blinking. He can't imagine what they must be going through, how frightened they must be. They aren't as well transformed as Ashe usually is, so scales still tip their ears and cheeks. It’s new, and different. Ashe hasn’t even shown him his full transformation, so Dedue really isn’t sure what to think. But still, they're children. He wonders if he should call Mercedes. He loves children, but he is still unsure of how to handle them.

"You must be worried," Dedue starts.

The boy, Ley, Dedue thinks he remembers Ashe saying, smiles, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Dedue chooses to not focus on that, and instead focuses on how Ashe and Ley share the same smile. The same smile with very pointy teeth.

"For Ashe? He'll be okay. We all have a bite, you know."

The girl, Liv, he thinks, pouts. “I wish they would’ve taken us with them to save him so we could eat the poachers. I’m starving.”

Dedue swallows a lump in his throat. They’re kids, they don’t know how to process their feelings, their fear. He figures they're covering and hiding their worries, trying to act strong in front of a stranger. Or they’re not grasping the situation.

Or, else, they really trust Ashe's... bite. Dedue thinks their own teeth look...bite-y. Would they actually eat someone?

He also knows the rumors, the stories told to children who wander too close to the ocean, but he also knows Ashe, and he can't believe Ashe’s siblings would hurt Dedue, if they are anything like Ashe.

He prays they're like Ashe. Plus, they're children. He's a 25-year-old man. They're children. He doubles them in size.

Still. Maybe he should leave Mercedes out of this one. Though, he supposes, it would be nice for her to come patch him up later. If there’s anything left to patch up.

"Would you like something to eat?" Dedue asks, wincing at his own wording.

The Liv brightens and smiles. Her teeth are closer to human, but her eyes are bright and sharper than Ley's teeth.

"We've never had human food before, well, we've had humans AS food," she says, blinking innocently. "Hope you got something good."

Dedue hopes he does as well.

\---

If there’s anything Dedue knows how to do, and do well, it’s cook. Dedue is renowned for his cooking. He’s the one who helped teach Ashe when he had first moved in.

(And Ashe had taken to it like a fish to water.)

(Ha.)

He starts them with a salmon pasta, cooked in butter and fresh herbs. They complain that he ruined it by cooking it. (By killing it first.)

Salad, drizzled with a light blue cheese dressing? No, they say, kelp tastes less like water than this lettuce. Dedue is hesitantly inclined to agree.

Duck sandwiches receive raised brows. "What the hell is a duck, Dedue?" Liv asks.

Kabocha soup is pushed away, noses wrinkled, teeth sharp and sparkling.

Nothing, _nothing_ impresses these shark spawn, and he's running out of ideas and ingredients. What in Ailell do merchildren eat?

He stops that line of thought before it can go any further.

He needs help. Quickly, while the children are dunking the salad toppings into the soup, he sends a text to his sister. She, unlike Dedue, will eat anything, no matter what.

Dedue has refined tastes.

Chiara, however, will happily eat a five-star meal one evening, and a potato chip and mayonnaise sandwich for breakfast the next morning.

Thankfully, her reply comes swiftly, the notification sound dinging before Dedue can even lock his phone again.

'check the freezer, i keep Goods for my visits.'

Freezer? Surely, she isn't suggesting he feed them ice-cream. That might work but—

No.

_No._

That's not it. It hits him suddenly, and he hates it. He hates it so much, it hurts. The idea sits like rotten fruit in his stomach. He will never, ever forgive himself if he does this.

But it might be the only way.

\--

Ten minutes later, he pulls the Cursed Food from the oven, plates the pieces of sculpted horror, sets them in front of the kids.

Ley’s brows raise and Liv pokes at them.

"Oh weird, what is this? Why is it so squishy?" she asks.

Dedue takes a deep breath, readying to lose the piece of his soul he has bartered in exchange for unthawing this abomination.

"These are called chicken nuggets. Many believe them to be made of chicken. I do not."

"Interesting," Ley says. "Is there something special about the shape?"

"For the enjoyment of the _children_ who eat them, they have been made into the shape of dinosaurs."

Liv stares at him in horror. "You eat DINOSAURS and you're giving us grief for eating humans?"

"That's weird, Dedue," says Ley, chicken nugget in hand, pointing at Dedue with it.

"Just try it," Dedue grumbles, taking a seat across the table from him. If this doesn't work, he'll just let them eat him. He's already sunk to the lowest of the low, the deepest pits, the ninth circle of hell.

The twins tap two nuggets together in a toast and stuff them in their mouths

Silence, and then they both grab for more in a frenzy. Dedue watches in horror as the plate is cleaned, like fish off a bone.

"Do you have any more?" Ley asks

Thank the gods and goddesses, he does.

\----  
Ashe comes by the next morning, and Dedue draws him into a hug, overjoyed to see his friend safe and alive.

(Dedue is overjoyed that he himself has survived to see this morning, as well.)

"I hope the twins weren't any trouble," Ashe says. "I'm going to take them back h-" he cuts himself off with a yawn.

"Now? You look exhausted," Dedue says.

"Yeah, but—"

Liv and Ley appear, from nearly thin air, on either side of Dedue. He hasn’t heard a peep from them since he set them up with cartoons (and more chicken nuggets). They weave around him, throw themselves around their brother in a group hug.

“You’re back!” Ley exclaims, “Are you okay? Did you eat the guy?”

“Kind of…” Ashe mumbles, not looking at Dedue. Dedue just chooses to file that information away, far away, and forget he heard it.

"We like Dedue!" Liv says.

"Dedue gave us chicken nuggets," Ley adds, "and now we want to stay here forever."

"You gave them chicken nuggets?" Ashe repeats.

"The nuggets saved my life, Ashe," Dedue tells him solemnly.

Ashe stares at him. Dedue is ashamed.

"Dedue will let us stay another night while you rest!" Liv says.

Ashe looks tired. Really tired. So Dedue, despite it all, despite the alarms in his head, says, "Yes, I do not mind."

It'll be okay. He bought more chicken nuggets.

\---

(Later, when they leave, he’ll admit to Mercedes that he really did enjoy having them around. That he does kind of miss them.)

(She’ll make the perfect suggestion.)

(They get a fish tank.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely not done with this AU and will probably keep adding small updates like this. Nothing as long as the original story (never. again.) but still, bits and pieces.


End file.
